


Russian Doll

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Demon!Prowl, Dolls, Kinda underage?, M/M, Sticky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz's days were numbered until a deal was struck with a creature most despicable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

The demon stalked through the house, incredibly bored. The fool who had summoned him was busy scurrying around upstairs; he could hear them, but he couldn't follow. Lines of salt had been drawn, locking him into the room, stopping him from leaving it. He couldn't leave until a contract had been formed.

"You are testing my patience!" The demon snapped, and he then heard the faint sound of someone crying.

A sparkling.

No, oh no. He knew what they were going to do.

'Here's my first born, give me riches'

'Here's my first born, give me this give me that'

It was mundane, and quite frankly he hated it. He'd have to bring the child back with him and watch as it was turned into a monster.

Instead, he was surprised.

"He is sick. Please, please help him." The mech said as they came back in, stepping over the salt.

In their arms they held a sparkling, smaller than they should have been, with optics that looked fragmented. Their breathing was shallow and ragged, face flushed and hands weakly gripping the mech holding them.

"What is wrong with him?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I... I don't know. He's been like this ever since he was born." They explained, tears welling up in their optics.

"Very well." He replied, a plush doll that bore a striking resemblance to him materialising in his hand. He gave it to the sparkling, and they immediately latched onto it. "This will protect them until they are of age. After that, I will come to reclaim what is mine."

"Thank you, thank you." The mech said, bowing and clutching the sparkling to their chest.

* * *

Jazz sat in front of the television set, holding the plush close to him as he watched the news. His Carrier was in recharge next to him, exhausted from the days work.

He absently fiddled with the doorwings on the back of the plush, optics glued to the screen.

In just a groon, he would be joining the army. Then he too would be on that screen.

It was a tantalising thought.

Subspacing the doll, Jazz stood up and gently woke up his Carrier.

* * *

The moment Jazz saw Prowl, he froze.

Jazz wasn't at the front, so it wasn't obvious that he had locked up, but the mech standing next to him certainly noticed.

But everything else seemed to freeze with him when he realised that Prowl looked exactly like the plush doll currently in his subspace.

It wasn't something Jazz liked to carry around with him, but if he strayed too far then he found himself on his knees, in pain and unable to breathe or see.

He hated it.

Something was nagging Jazz. There was something he had to remember, something important...

A loud bang drew Jazz out of his thoughts, and he realised that they had been dismissed. Following the map he had downloaded, Jazz found his quarters soon enough. Nobody else was in them, so he assumed that they hadn't gotten here yet, and he begun to unpack his things.

The plush stayed firmly in his subspace.

He was frustrated at himself for forgetting something. It was right there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't remember! It had been so long since he had been told and he never thought that the demon would do anything - he hadn't seen them his entire _life_! Surely they would have appeared by now and at least said what it was they were taking in return.

Seeing Prowl had unsettled him, however. Were they the demon? They looked just like his plush - it was plausible... But that just raised questions like 'how the frag did he manage to become second in command of the Autobots'.

Prowl himself was shocked.

He hadn't expected to see Jazz there. Jazz was meant to be _ill_ , unsuitable for service, yet there he was with no doll in sight.

Was this not the right Jazz?

But no - he could feel it. That was the right Jazz.

His fists clenched as he felt a pang of longing. It was just two groon - two groon he had to wait, and then he could get the doll back and become whole again. He could do it, he'd survived vorns without it.

A glance in the mirror suggested that it may have been harder than he thought. Rubbing at his optics and forcing himself to settle, he returned back to his disguised appearance.

It was just two groons. It'd be pathetic if he couldn't do it.

* * *

He couldn't do it.

Jazz seemed to always be there, there was no escaping him. The special operations officer sung his praise, and so Jazz seemed to forever be drafted into missions. As he was being included, he had to be in the meetings.

And then after them, he would always ask Prowl if he wanted to go and get a cube together. Social etiquette demanded that he accepted, and so he was subject to being surrounded by lunatics in the rec room while he tried to down his cube as quickly as possible so that he could escape.

But as he was leaving, Jazz would give him a wounded look and he _had_ to sit back down again. He was second in command for christs sake, he should be working or socialising with the other officers! But no, no he was sitting with the new recruits and wondering just where he had gone wrong.

Optimus found it most amusing, and he didn't hide his laughter as he looked at the very disgruntled Prowl.

"You _can_ just go, you know." He said through his mirth.

"It appears that my charge has perfected the puppy eyes look." Prowl grumpily replied.

"Ah, so this is the right Jazz." The Prime replied, leaning forwards. "How do you suppose we handle this? It will be noticed if he suddenly gets very, very ill, or dies."

"I am not sure. It's hard to not take my doll back now, the way it's being dangled in front of me." Prowl clenched down hard on the chair, denting it.

"Prowl, not the chair."

"Sorry, Prime."

"I am sure there are other things you can do in order to help him."

"He needs a piece of me to be with him at all times." Prowl replied, chin in hand.

"So, a piece of your plating?" The Prime replied. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

"No, it's more complicated than that. A piece of my spark. The doll contains part of it already, but in less than two groons time I'll need it back."

"There are ways for cybertronians to swap pieces of their sparks." Optimus carefully said. It was thin ice to be treading on as heavily as he was, but if it would allow Prowl to continue working at the base, _and_ keep him under the radar of hunters...

Prowl sat up straight and to attention.

"Have you ever heard of a spark bond?"

Prowl slumped again. "Yes, yes I have. Forgive me if I am reluctant to bond with someone I do not know, and with someone unwilling."

"You should get to know him then. Failing that, prepare to have to spend the rest of Jazz's life by his side. Literally."

Prowl did not look impressed.

"I will try, but I make no promises."

"Try to not get yourself killed, Prowl. I rather like you."

"I'm honoured, although I think the other Primes may have a thing or two to say about it."

"Life is a right, Prowl. I'm not about to kill you for what you are."

It was a conversation that seemed to happen a lot. Prowl just nodded as he stood, sensing his dismissal. "Thank you, Optimus."

Any of the other Primes would have killed him on the spot. But when Optimus had heard that there was a demon in a rural town, he had set off with the lie he wanted to destroy it on his own, yet when he came back he had returned with Prowl. Optimus had later revealed that he was originally planning on killing him, but when he saw that he wasn't the twisted monster he was always told they were, and saw that Prowl was helping them get rid of a bad case of scraplets, he had decided he wanted Prowl on his team.

Prowl was forever grateful that his accident of letting a few scraplets follow him through the portal saved his life, although he never ever told the Prime it was his fault the place was infested.

Prowl left the office, closed the door, looked left and jumped.

"Uh... Hello?" Prowl awkwardly began, remembering what his Prime had said.

"Hi! Have ya had any energon yet?"

"No I haven't."

"Cool, come on let's go!" Jazz chirped, grabbing onto Prowls arm and tugging him along. Prowl looked over his shoulder when he heard a door open and saw Optimus giving him a thumbs up. Prowl glared. _Prick_.

The Rec room was blessedly empty, and why was made obvious when Prowl checked the time. Middle of the shift, when mecha were either working or sleeping.

"I thought you'd be on shift, Jazz." Prowl said as he collected his own cube.

"Ah just got back from a mission, Ratch' just cleared me. He told me ta get some energon and some recharge." Jazz replied.

"And the first thing you did was go and find me?"

"Yep! Ya only seem ta refuel whenever Ah get ya. Ratch' told me."

"Oh." Prowls lip twitched. "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome." Jazz replied as he took a swig from his cube. "So, what was it ya needed ta tell me?"

"What? I... I don't follow."

"Prime told me that ya had somethin' ya wanted ta say, it's why Ah knew where ya were."

Prowls hands clenched, and his cube cracked. Jazz took a step back.

"There is nothing I want to say." Prowl coldly replied. "There are things I need to say though." He replied more softly, looking at his cube and sighing, quietly muttering 'not another one' before he downed his cube. "I believe we will need somewhere more private. My office, perhaps?"

Jazz slowly, albeit hesitantly nodded. The rest of his cube was quickly finished and he put it into the receptacle. He followed Prowl to his office, and tried to not panic when the door was locked.

"The doll in your subspace. I'll need you to give it to me."

"How did ya-?"

"It contains a part of me. If you would please?"

Jazz removed it, and hesitantly began to hold it out.

"Don't worry, I won't take it. Not yet. There's still more than a groon left on our contract."

"Contract?"

"Don't play coy. I know you've worked it out, Jazz."

"Ya _are_ a demon." Jazz breathlessly replied, although it was more he was speaking to himself. "Ah did suspect it but..." Jazz trailed off, looking down at the doll. He handed it over.

And promptly, his knees gave out. He felt cold, as though ice was wrapping around him. His visor flickered and his head swam, his hands unsure as whether they should wrap around himself to try and stay warm and offer comfort, or support his body so he didn't face plant onto the floor.

Prowl didn't seem to notice Jazz at first. He had it. His spark it was there it was right there he could _have_ it he could be whole again-

But he looked down and saw that Jazz was on the floor, struggling to breathe and trembling, he decided he could wait just a little while longer. He sat down next to Jazz, and the mech seemed to immediately get better.

"Tha' was horrible." Jazz gasped.

"That was why your Carrier, I assume, summoned me. He made a contact with me, and your life was part of it."

Jazz shakily nodded. "It's a bit late ta go through the terms an' conditions, isn't it?"

"Be glad I am, most don't." Prowl replied. "What I did for you, Jazz, was give you a chance to live. All you had to do was keep this doll at your side at all times. Simple, right?"

"Simple."

"But in return, once you hit adulthood, you had to give me back the doll, and the one who summoned me will have their lifespan cut short."

"How short?" Jazz hesitantly asked.

"By however many vorn the contract lasted for."

"W-will my Carrier die?" Jazz nervously asked.

"He may deactivate, yes."

"After the contract ends, Ah'll be ill again won't Ah."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Jazz looked down at his hands.

Prowl gingerly handed back the doll and stood as Jazz hugged it closely to himself.

"He never told me. So either way, we're both gunna end up dead?"

"You will only become ill-"

"What Ah have has never been seen in mecha my age because they always die as a sparklin'. Ah should be dead! It gets worse as ya get older!"

"I'm not sure it's that bad-" Prowl attempted, trying to comfort him.

"No, it is. Just losin' contact with this thing can kill me, when Ah was younger Ah'd throw it from ma cot an' Ah'd make the night. It's gotten worse."

Prowl didn't know what to say to that.

"Does anyone know about your condition? Any of the medics?"

"No. They'd kick me out if they did."

"There _is_ something I can do. You probably won't like it."

"What is it?"

"Well... Your _glorious_ Prime suggested that we swap pieces of spark."

"Ya mean bond?"

Prowl almost flinched at the word. "... Yes. That."

"Ah- Ah'm not sure..."

"I won't force you to." Prowl replied. "I understand that it's permanent."

Jazz nodded. "Thanks."

"Before you get too excited, just know I only do this because I have to. The Prime does not want you dead."

"An' here Ah thought ya cared." Jazz sarcastically replied as he subspaced the doll. "But when ya could kill me a moment ago ya didn't, surprise surprise."

"Do not push your luck." Prowl hissed.

Jazz just glared back.

* * *

As it turned out, Jazz was a light weight.

His Carrier had never let him have high-grade, constantly aware of his illness, and so this was Jazz's first experience with it.

Prowl, on the other hand, could hold his high-grade.

The reason why they were drinking? Well, they'd just won a battle. Their generous reward from the towns folk they had defended had been the hefty load of high-grade that the Decepticons they had just turfed out owned.

Upon seeing lecherous looks on other mechs faces, Prowl promptly took Jazz back to his quarters. When he was too drunk to even open the door, Prowl sighed, looked up, asked Primus why it was him, and then proceeded to guide Jazz to his own.

Here, he dumped Jazz down onto the berth.

Jazz drunkenly giggled and wriggled backwards, attempting to pull Prowl down with him.

"No. No." Prowl sternly said, attempting to wriggle away.

"But Proooowl! Please?"

"No! You are overcharged-"

"No I am not!"

"I think you'll find you are."

"Am not!"

"You are." Prowl snapped with a tone of finality. He quickly flicked himself free and stepped backwards. "Goodnight, Jazz."

"G'nigh' Prowler." Jazz sleepily replied, and when Prowl whacked his head around to stare in disbelief at the mech who dared to give him a nickname, he saw that Jazz was fast asleep.

Prowl moved back into the room again and pulled the covers over Jazz.

As he walked out, he worried his bottom lip. Could he be getting attached to Jazz? It was almost nonsense, but...

The idea of the mech dying in a groon was not something Prowl particularly wanted to think about.

A few joors later, Prowl felt the need to check up on Jazz before he himself went to recharge. His spare blanket currently resided on his sofa, the place where he would be spending the night.

Footsteps light, he crept into the room to find that Jazz was awake.

"'Sup." Jazz greeted, visor brightening.

"Are you feeling any better?" Prowl asked, slowly turning up the lights.

"Not too bright." Jazz quickly blurted out, hand coming up to shield his visor. Prowl dimmed them slightly before continuing on towards Jazz. "Ah feel much better. Thanks for gettin' me outta there."

"You're welcome."

"An... Thanks for after that..." Jazz awkwardly continued, unable to meet Prowls optics.

Prowl raised an optic ridge at him. "I will be in the main room if you need me." He simply replied.

When Prowl had left the room again, Jazz was nearly overcome with the urge to scream into a pillow.

Stupid, stupid!

He'd be dammed to admit that he had a crush on Prowl but..!

It felt wrong, so wrong. He wasn't  even sure why - Prowl _hated_ him, and he knew that it would be fruitless. In a groon he would be ill again, and if he lasted longer than a cycle he would be amazed.

But after he had gotten over the initial shock, he had noticed the differences between the doll and Prowl (for instance, those icy optics that Jazz could just stare at all day...) and he had felt a little better about himself.

But Prowl... Was unattainable. He had even said it himself - he was only offering to help Jazz live more than a groon because the Prime made him, and even Jazz knew that the Primes were practically made to kill demons. Prowl only did it because his life was at stake.

It... Stung.

Jazz knew he shouldn't have expected any different but it didn't make it feel any better. Part of him had hoped that they would have at least been able to become friends. He could live with that.

* * *

Prowl watched him from a distance.

Jazz had spent the night in his quarters, and then in the morning he had received a curious message from his Prime asking after Jazz. The mech had the audacity to ask if he had considered the Primes word, and so Prowl felt the need to explain himself.

He was reluctant to bond to a mortal, let alone someone he did not know nor, as they considered it so highly in bonding, love. It wasn't fair to Jazz, who would be stuck with it for his entire functioning, nor did Prowl think that he would ever be able to live it down among the other demons. They were already calling him cushy and soft simply because the Prime had not killed him. Of course, none of them were stupid enough to attack him.

Attacking him would just be suicide.

Jazz was talking animatedly with an orange mech on comms - Blaster? And as Prowl lip read he discovered he was talking about the party last night. His optics widened as he saw his name mentioned, but Blaster shifted and was in the way before he found out why.

_Drat_. He couldn't even ask about what had been said - how frustrating! Jazz likely wouldn't mention how he had tried to get Prowl into the berth with him - embarrassment one major and deciding factor - which cut it down to Jazz saying that it was Prowl who had pulled him out from the mechs and brought him to his quarters so he could recharge safely.

Oooh the others would have a field day if they knew.

Two presences beside him distracted Prowl, and he looked to see the two twins staring up at him.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker."

"Sir." Sideswipe replied, Sunstreaker just grunting.

"Is there something you need?" Prowl asked, holding back the urge to sigh.

"Training room four is ready for us to use." Sideswipe replied, and now Prowl was looking closer he noticed the slight tremble to his frame. Prowl gestured for them to lead the way, and for once he didn't shout at them for running in the halls.

The moment the door closed and locked behind them, the twins were immediately enveloped in shadows and in a blink they were no longer their mech disguises, but in their true forms. Spiked armour, bright purple optics, clawed hands and sharp, sharp teeth.

They were by far too young to have developed some of the features Prowl had, but it had never stopped the two from challenging him to a friendly fight now and then. But this time, it was no fight.

"When the two of you are ready, we can begin." Prowl said, casually sitting in a chair that had been placed against the wall. The twins didn't waste a second before launching into a sparring session, blows being traded faster than any mortal optics would be able to see.

"So, what's the deal with Jazz?" Sideswipe suddenly asked. Prowls doorwings twitched.

"You know we do not discuss our contracts."

"No, not that kind of deal."

"It is none of your business."

"Aww, come on! You're meant to be teaching us!"

"I am. Pay attention to your fight." Prowl said, and a split second later Sunstreaker landed a punch on his twins throat, knocking him backwards and leaving him gasping for breath.

"Are you both done?" Prowl asked.

"I am fine, although if I need to continue..." Sunstreaker replied, trailing off as glanced at his twin.

"I'm good." He replied.

Prowl nodded. "Good. Today, it will be about control. You must remain hidden at all times, nobody can know what you are."

"What if someone already knows?" Sideswipe asked with a telling glance in Sunstreakers direction. Sunstreaker simply twitched, corner of his mouth going down.

"Then it is even more important that you concentrate. You must ensure you are safe for them to be around."

Sunstreaker seemed to relax at that, as though he had expected a different answer.

"Now, shall we begin?"

* * *

The twins stumbled out of the room sore, banged up and groaning. Prowl followed with an instruction to clean up at the wash racks before resting in their quarters, and that they would soon meet to discuss what went wrong and how to fix it.

Prowl put a hand on Sunstreakers shoulder before he left. "Remember what I said. I quite like Bluestreak."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Sunstreaker just grunted some nonsensical reply and followed his twin.

Doorwings fluttering to shake out any kinks, Prowl returned to his office.

Typing up his assessment for the twins with one hand and holding a datapad to read with another, Prowl found himself short-handed.

He extended his field, concentrating hard to feel into the hallway. Nobody there. With a sigh of relief he pulled it back in to where it usually comfortably extended, and send the command for the door to lock and security camera to deactivate. Optimus had long ago allowed Prowl the option, and Red Alert had begrudgingly accepted it under the guise that much sensitive information was handled in Prowls office.

Putting down the datapad and standing up, Prowl allowed himself to revert back to his true form.

Much, much bigger than the twins, his spikes were more pronounced, optics a deeper purple, claws sharper and larger. His doorwings split into three, each hooking round savagely. In between them, snake-like metallic appendages sprouted, each with their own gripping mechanism.

Satisfied, Prowl located his stool and swapped out his chair for it, he'd never fit, sitting down and continuing his work, picking up more pads and typing faster than before.

When the pile was almost complete, Prowl decided it was time to change back, as he never liked to remain as he was for long, and he stood again.

Stretching and popping his joints, Prowl exhaled heavily.

It was getting tiring. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a way to save Jazz without condemning him at the same time. It was either Jazz died, or he was stuck with Prowl.

Glancing at his datapads, he decided they could wait. His shift had ended fifty breems ago, it would be fine for him to leave.

Downloading the assessment onto a datapad, Prowl tucked it under his arm and headed towards the twins quarters. Maybe he'd be able to pick up some high grade whilst he was there?

Sideswipe opened the door, and he saw that they had company in the form of Bluestreak.

Plans of picking up high grade whilst he was there dashed, he simply handed over the datapad and left.

Bluestreak was curious, however, and he couldn't help but peek over Sideswipes shoulder.

"What's this? Is it demon stuff?" Bluestreak asked.

"Prowl isn't a demon." Sunstreaker snorted.

"But his optics were purple."

The twins both froze and shared a look.

::Uh, Prowl?:: Sideswipe gingerly said.

::Yes?::

::Your optics were purple::

Prowl audibly swore, and ducked into the nearest supply cupboard. He rubbed at his optics, blinking furiously. How stupid!

Bluestreak couldn't help but giggle.

"It's not funny." Sunstreaker snapped.

"But he's meant to be all cool and collected." Bluestreak replied. "Besides, you know I mean no harm by it. It's pretty cool, being in on a secret."

"You honestly can't tell anyone, Blue." Sunstreaker said as Bluestreak slid onto his lap. "It can get us killed."

"Your secrets safe with me." He replied.

::Does Bluestreak know?:: Prowl suddenly demanded.

::He does now:: Sideswipe honestly replied.

Prowl harshly cut the comm.

"I think Prowl's pissed he slipped." Sideswipe nervously said.

"I'll find him later." Bluestreak said, leaning more heavily against Sunstreaker. "Let him know I'm not bothered."

"Good idea!" Sideswipe chirped, throwing the datapad to Sunstreaker. "Now, about that prank?"

* * *

Jazz could sense that something was wrong.

Nervously pacing his quarters, he wrung his hands restlessly.

"You're giving me the creeps." His roommate blandly said, studying their hands.

"Somethin' doesn't feel right." Jazz replied, still continuing to pace.

"You've said that already. Five times already. And you'll wear a hole if you continue like that."

"But really! Can't ya feel it?"

"Uh, no?"

Jazz hopped from foot to foot before stilling completely.

Just as his roommate was about to ask what was wrong, there was a loud banging at the door.

It was immediately answered.

The roommate only saw Prowl for a split second before Jazz was yanked out and the door slammed shut behind him.

Deciding it was best to stay out of it, they didn't pursue.

Prowl tugged Jazz along behind him, stalking like a predator back towards his office. Any protests were ignored as Prowl continued on.

Finally, Jazz was released and Prowl locked the door behind them.

"What gives?!" Jazz hissed, unimpressed beyond measure. "Ya can't just yank someone outta their quarters like tha'!"

"I just did." Prowl replied, hands trembling. "Please, my spark-the doll, I, I need..."

Jazz nervously removed it from his subspace, and held it close as he walked towards Prowl. "C-can Ah keep in contact with it? Ah don't wanna..." He trailed off, looking at the floor. It seemed that Prowl didn't care, as he pulled Jazz towards him either way and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

A sigh of relief danced over Jazz's neck cabling and he tensed, visor brightening. Pit if that didn't feel good.

The mantra of 'it's just a groon, it's just a groon' ran over and over in Prowls head. He could do this. He'd already done one, he could do another. He could do this.

Prowl looked down, and immediately felt ashamed of himself. Holding Jazz close to himself it was almost as if he were trying to hug them, body curled over them as though to protect or shield, or even comfort.

They were not things a demon should be doing.

Quickly releasing Jazz, he stepped back and awkwardly coughed.

I'm sorry I... I shouldn't have done that."

"Ya really miss it, huh?" Jazz asked, looking down at the doll. "What would happen if Ah gave it back?"

"You cannot." Prowl snapped. "I refuse to go against the contract."

"But-"

"No questions, no excuses, no nothing. I'm not going back on my word."

Jazz subspaced the doll again. "Don't do that again." He replied. "Ya can't just yank mecha outta their quarters, others'll start talkin'."

"Talking?" Prowl asked, optic ridge quirking.

"They'll think somethin's up, an Ah know ya have no interest in me so ya might wanna-"

"Stop getting your hopes up." Prowl finished for him, getting a shocked look from Jazz.

"Wha- no!"

"I may not gossip but it doesn't mean it doesn't reach me. The grape vine is quite miraculous.

"That wasn't what Ah was gunna say."

"It may as well have been. Come now, pet. Is a groon really worth it?" Prowl purred, lifting Jazz's chin with a hooked digit. He noticed Jazz's body temperature heighten and his breathing change. How _cute_.

Alas, he couldn't toy with him all day. After all, the clock was ticking for Jazz.

"No." Jazz quietly replied, and Prowl released him.

"Then do not waste it chasing after the impossible."

He didn't hear Jazz's reply, and when he turned he was no longer there. Before he could miss his presence, Prowl returned to his datapads.

Jazz, on the other hand, was swiftly walking away.

Thoroughly embarrassed, he flopped down onto his berth. None of his roommates were there, and Jazz supposed that the one witness to Prowls outburst had gone to spread the news.

Just what he needed.

Huffing, he got under his blanket and held a pillow close to his chest. He felt awful, and stupid. Oh so very stupid. Jazz decided that in the future, he'd just keep his stupid trap shut-

Jazz realised with a start that there _was_ no future for him. It had never been something that crossed his mind before as it had never been a problem, but now it... It was.

Everything he had never done flashed before him. Gone to Maccadams. Seen the crystal gardens, the crystal city, the night life in Polyhex that he had always had to watch from up above at the window, seen a wild turbofox, gone to a zoo, found his Sire-

The last one left him feeling cold and helpless, ice twisting its claws around his spark. He had joined the army in the hopes that his Sire would be found there, but no such luck. Jazz hoped that he was just based elsewhere and that he hadn't lied.

Jazz dimmed his visor. He had to make the most of this last groon, he had to.

* * *

The floor pulsed as he stormed towards the Rec room.

Red Alert had called him in a frenzy, demanding that he fix whatever it was that was happening. Rave? Unauthorised party? Prowl didn't know, but the security director wouldn't shut up until he had fixed it.

And lo behold, right in the thick of it was none other than Jazz.

All activity and movement stopped when the occupants saw him, even the music stopped. Very unimpressed, Prowl strode straight towards Jazz, looking down on them with a single optic ridge raised.

Jazz stared innocently back.

His arm was grabbed and Prowl lead him out, not releasing him until they were back in his office. The usual disciplinary speech tumbled from his mouth, well practiced to the point of monotone, while Jazz just silently stared at him.

"As punishment..." Prowl trailed off, taking a moment to think. He had the perfect punishment dancing right in the palm of his hand, but it wasn't particularly Autobot. Cleaning the wash racks or taking monitor duty or the night shift were more of the punishments Jazz usually received, although he clearly didn't care at this moment in time.

But if it got the message through, it got it through.

"Your doll, please."

"Wha- no! How is that a punishment?"

"It is something you find unpleasant, and it's deterring."

"Can't Ah just get somethin' normal, like monitor duty? Ah-Ah don't wanna..."

"Picking your punishment defeats the purpose of one."

"Ah refuse." Jazz defiantly replied. "Ah'm not riskin' ma life for this. Ya don't even have proof Ah was the one who did it!"

"Proof enough is that you were there, and have an apparent reputation for parties." Prowl replied, stalking towards Jazz, backing the mech against the wall. "And you _will_ hand it over." He reached out to place a hand above his shoulder to trap him in, but froze when he saw the clawed digits, and a risked glance at Jazz's face showed barely hidden fear.

Prowl immediately backed off. "I believe that shall suffice. You are dismissed."

Jazz didn't hesitate to scramble out.

Prowl nearly clawed his face. What a fool he was, preaching control yet barely able to control himself. He wasn't even sure what he wanted, the doll, or Jazz?

Something lightly touched his elbow, and he looked down to see what it was. Jazz was back, caution written across his face. In one hand, he held the doll while the other began to fiddle with one of the buttons crudely stitched onto its face.

"Sorry." Jazz softly said, holding the doll close to himself. "Ah didn't mean ta make ya angry."

Prowl just sighed, leaning against the desk. "I look a mess." He replied, studying his clawed hands.

"Ya look like a demon, but... None of the ones Ah saw in books ever had wings. Or tentacles." Jazz curiously replied, helm tilting to the side.

"I am but a rare exception." Prowl supplied. "Now, if you have nothing left to say, I need to concentrate. This form rarely leaves easily."

"Ah'll see ya later then." Jazz replied, subspacing the doll and quickly hopping through the door. He didn't want to give Prowl away.

* * *

Jazz had taken to watching the clock, starting a count down until his final hour.

It was unhealthy and he shouldn't have done it - He knew it was a bad idea, and he knew Prowl would go spare if he found out, but it was somewhat... Comforting. Stuck on a mission? Well, not long left. You'd die before they got you. It's all good. Need to do this thing? Well, look how little time you have! Chop chop, get to it! They're waiting!

His roommate, who Jazz later found out was called Plasma (he hadn’t quite caught it the first time, and as he was too embarrassed to ask he had just called him various nicknames), had noticed Jazz’s bad habit.

“What is it with you and the time lately?” They asked, slightly irritated.

“Nothin’, jus’… a superstition in ma family. Never quite let go of it.” Jazz quickly said, hoping Plasma didn’t pick up on his bluff. Plasma gave him a flat look before just nodding.

“Tell me the _real_ answer when you’re up for it.”

“That was!” Jazz indignantly spluttered, but somewhat thankful that Plasma didn’t press the issue. He checked his chronometer again. Ten cycles until judgment day, and just ten cycles until his birthday.

How cruel.

Checking his rota, Jazz found that he had been taken off schedule on his birthday – likely Prowls doing – and he was also free on the day before. Someone was going to notice this, as it was incredibly difficult to get two days off in a row – especially for someone as low a rank as he was. Jazz just hoped no one brought it up.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Plasma asked, putting down the datapad they were reading and rolling onto his front.

“Ah still haven’t found ma Sire, it’s been almost two groons since Ah got here an’ not a single word.” Jazz replied, huffing.

“Oh, yeah. That.” Plasma replied, frowning. Jazz had spoken to him about it before – he remembered. “And they still wont tell you?”

“Confidential information.” Jazz replied. “They wont even let me run a search for his name, most of the files are blocked an’ require an Officer to unlock it.”

“I don’t suppose Prowl let you, then.”

“Ah didn’ ask.” Jazz replied, the obvious suddenly hitting him. He had been thinking of people like Ratchet and Ironhide – they’d _never_ unlock it for him. Prowl, on the other hand, knew him better _and_ knew that he was simply searching for his Sire. Nothing more.

“Ah’m gunna go ask!” Jazz announced, leaping to his feet. Before Plasma could say anything, Jazz was out the door.

Jazz knocked on Prowls door, the lock engaged. “Prowl?” He called from the outside. The lock beeped, signaling it was open, and Jazz slipped in.

“Ah need a favour.” Jazz immediately asked.

“Hello to you, too.” Prowl replied dryly. Jazz started when he realized why the door was locked – Prowl was undisguised, and was using all of his limbs (bar his pedes, they were still tucked under the desk) to hold datapads and deal with the information they held. His optics were glued to the metallic tentacles as Prowl continued.

“What was it you needed? And please stop staring, you’ll scare them.”

Jazz’s optics snapped back to Prowls. “Them?”

“A joke.”

“Yanno, ya really need ta work on ‘em.”

“If you wanted my help, you’d be best off being polite.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jazz replied. “Anyway, Ah need ya to authorize ma account for some files-“

Prowl gave him a sharp look. “What files? They’re locked for a reason.”

“Just files on Quintal.”

“I don’t see why you need them.”

“He’s ma Sire – he told me he was gunna be on this base, but Ah haven’t seen him or heard of him.”

Prowl put down one of his datapads and focused on his screen, typing away on his keyboard. His optics flicked across the screen, and his lips pressed together. “It says here he’s no longer registered for this base.”

Jazz felt his spark sink. Oh. Prowl continued, not noticing Jazz’s crestfallen expression. “I remember this. Transferred to a base closer to the front after an incident that occurred here in Iacon. I wasn’t the Officer who dealt with it so I’m not sure on the details, but it resulted in another mech losing an arm. It’s now somewhat of a taboo subject here.”

“Sounds like ma Sire.” Jazz replied somewhat dejectedly. That did sound like the hot-headed mech – a lot like him – but why didn’t he say he was no longer in Iacon? His Carrier didn’t know, nor did he. No message had been received.

“Jazz? Is something wrong?”

“He never said anythin’.” Jazz simply replied. “Ah-Ah only came to Iacon because Ah thought that’s where he’d be, otherwise Ah’d have applied back in Polyhex.”

Prowl felt a pang in his chest, as though he didn’t want Jazz to leave. He quenched it – there was no need to be feeling like that towards a mortal doomed to die.

“I’ll try and find where he transferred to, I may be able to call him.” Prowl replied, typing away again.

“Ah have another question.”

“Go on.”

“Ah don’t see why that was deemed confidential information at an Officers level.”

Prowl froze. Jazz raised a very, very good point. That information was _nothing_ , Jazz should have been able to access it. Even as a Special Operations mech (granted, he _was_ still in training) that information should have been available to him. Unless someone didn’t want him in and had changed its classification. Quintal was a strange name and nobody would have noticed unless it was specifically looked for, and being a taboo subject it simply wasn’t known around the base by the newbies and those who bore witness to the event simply didn’t talk about it.

“I will look into that.” Prowl replied, making a note of it. “You’re leaving this a little late, aren’t you?”

“Don’t remind me.” Jazz testily replied.

Prowl sighed to himself as Jazz left. He hadn’t meant to offend him, nor had he meant anything by it. If anything, he was just as reluctant as Jazz was to remember the smaller, visored mechs days were numbered. Very numbered.

Ten cycles.

Prowl remembered seeing him for the first time – he was oh so small and fragile, and now Prowl had seen him as an adult, with a personality larger than life and very alive. It was hard to believe the healthy-looking mech was actually barely clinging onto life.

* * *

::I’ve secured a connection with your Sire:: Prowl had said.

Jazz had sprinted to the communications room, skidding into the booth Prowl had pointed him towards. He typed in the code Prowl had given him, and his Sires face was soon on the screen. It was grainy and static-laiden, but Jazz could recognize that face anywhere.

“Looking good, Jazz.” Quintal greeted, smirking as he blew smoke from his mouth.

“Ya smoking again.” Jazz replied with a frown, clearly disapproving of his Sires addiction. “Ya know that messes up ya intake.”

“Eh. It’s better than the air here.” He replied. “Anyway, what’s this I hear about you getting into Iacon?”

“They accepted me.” Jazz replied proudly, fluffing up his armor slightly. “Ah dunno how Ah got in, Ah mean Ah only just left the academy in Polyhex, but-“

“Wait, wait, wait, you didn’t transfer from your academy?” Quintal asked, almost forgetting about his cigar.

“Nah, Ah didn’. They’d make me go to Polyhex, an Ah wanted ta come here.”

“Why Iacon?” Quintal asked, scrunching his nose. “They’re so _uptight_.”

“It’s where ya were. At least, where ya told us ya were.” Jazz replied, narrowing his optics at him. Quintal at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Ah, yeah. I _was_ gunna tell you, but… very embarrassing.”

“Ah got the gist of it from Prowl.” Jazz replied. “Ya remember who Prowl is, right?”

“Explicitly. Jazz, stay away from him. He’s… there’s just something about him I can’t quite place. He’s off, be careful with him.”

“He’s fine, we’re… friends, I guess.” Jazz replied, finding him stuck as of how to explain their relationship. His Sire didn’t know Jazz was alive through a contract formed with a demon – he was away on deployment when his Carrier had summoned Prowl, and it was kept secret. Jazz himself was only told when his Carrier felt he was old enough to understand, and to know that he must not tell anyone.

“Hmm, I find that hard to believe. He’s a sparkless little prick- don’t tell him I said that, Blaster, I know you’re listening in. Jazz, I’ve gotta go. Tell your Carrier I love him, okay? I’ll try and be home soon.”

“See ya, Sire.” Jazz replied, standing when his Sire blew a kiss at the screen and cut the communication. He felt hollow now – he wouldn’t live to see his Sire again.

There was little to no point on dwelling on it, though. There was still a small shred of hope for him – maybe Ratchet would be able to help him? Or, an even smaller, miniscule chance: Prowl would do _something_.

It had been briefly mentioned before. Prowl said that he’d let Jazz decide what he wanted – Prowl to stick by his side for the rest of his life, or if he’d accept the cold embrace of death.

* * *

The final day was slipping through Jazz's fingers.

Prowl was nowhere to be seen, so Jazz left the base, found a secluded place and just... Sat there. It was quiet, so quiet that he could hear the low rumble of his internals and the whispering of the wind as it disturbed the leaves, the sounds of animals and the water flowing in the creek.

He was not expecting Prowl to sit down beside him.

"Here is the last place I would have expected to find you." Prowl admitted, looking around himself.

"Ah figured it'd be peaceful here."

"You weren't wrong."

They shared silence for a few moments. Or was it hours? Jazz didn't know. But he eventually broke it. "When were you going to do it?"

"Back at base, where it's safer." Prowl replied, knowing what Jazz was thinking about. "So long as you do not leave my side after, you will be fine."

"And if Ah do?"

"You know what will happen."

"True." Jazz replied, chin resting on his arms. "Ah can't see any use for me in the army if Ah can't stay farther than a stones throw from ya."

"You will have plenty of use." Prowl replied. "I'm not the only demon on base, I'm sure you will be able to navigate just fine without me-"

"But Ah can never be on ma own! Ah can't fulfil my duty anymore - no more missions, no more infiltration - nothin' that Ah'm good at."

"The solution may be more of a curse." Prowl replied.

"Ya said there were other demons... Who are they?"

"It is not my place to say, it is up to them to come forwards. A safety precaution, you understand?"

"Of course." Jazz solemnly replied.

Prowl curtly nodded. "Unfortunately I am required back at base. I suggest you return soon, should it get too close to the next cycle I may... Become unhinged, and hunt you."

"Ah'll meet ya in ya office."

Prowl transformed and sped away, racing back towards base.

Optimus was waiting for him at the entrance.

"Sir." Prowl greeted as he transformed, wings dipping.

"Prowl. I believe you wanted to discuss something?"

"Your office will be more fitting for this conversation."

"Very well." The Prime replied, turning and leading the way towards his office. Once inside, Prowl immediately looked very on edge and put out.

"I am not quite sure how to word this." Prowl began, wringing his hands. The tips of his fingers were slowly beginning to elongate and sharpen, his optics turning purple. The Prime kept back.

"Take your time."

"I... I find myself not wanting Jazz to die, or suffer through my constant presence. The only alternative is bonding yet I cannot bring myself to endanger him in that way."

"Endanger?"

"You know just as well as I how to kill a demon, Optimus. Our sparks are our weak points, killing Jazz would kill me and my death is something many eagerly await."

"I don't imagine many would be eager to attack either of you when a Prime is so close." Optimus replied.

"I... Still don't feel comfortable with the idea. We won't be soldiers forever."

"But allies we will be."

"I don't even know what it'll do to Jazz. Prolong his life, yes, but our sparks are so different. If it's not the illness that kills him, it could be bonding."

"That is true." Optimus forlornly replied. "And another contract is impossible?"

"I would form another if I could, but yes. It is something I cannot do."

The Prime exhaled in annoyance. "This is quite the predicament."

"I... Will await Jazz's answer. I gave him his options."

"Let's just hope he doesn't choose the wrong one."

* * *

Joors later and Jazz was back on base, relaxing in Prowls quarters. When he had discovered that Prowl wasn't in his office like promised, he had commed him and was told to wait there.

Jazz didn't notice Prowl enter the room, and the next thing he knew the mech was stepping out of the shadows, optics bright purple and claws tapping his legs.

"Do you have your answer?"

"Not yet. Ah was hopin' ya'd be willin' ta sit for a lil' while... Ta help."

"Of course. Are you ready?"

"As Ah'll ever be." Jazz replied, handing him the doll.

Jazz didn't notice hitting the floor, but the next thing he knew Prowl was on his hands and knees next to him, gasping for breath while Jazz's vision swam, and then those purple optics were on his, and the panic rose in them when the mech realised Jazz wasn't moving. Sharp claws floundered at his side, desperately searching for something. Their claws caught on something and it was hastily removed, a wire quickly extended from his wrist and plugged into the exposed port, coding Jazz only vaguely recognised flashing over his HUD before his chest plates opened and he began to panic.

His hands came up to push Prowl away, legs copying them, but he stopped when he saw Prowl had made no move to open his own.

Prowls hand, although clawed and dreadfully sharp, gently brushed against Jazz's spark. There was a surge of energy, Jazz arching off the ground, before he blacked out for a moment.

When he came to again, Prowl was sat on the other side of the room, his hand singed. It smoked, and Jazz could smell it.

"What the frag did ya _do_?" Jazz hissed, his spark still reeling. His hands came up over his chest plating as if to protect it.

"I just saved your life." Prowl emotionlessly replied, optics never leaving his hand.

"How is _molesting_ me savin' ma life?"

"It was the only way to transfer payment." Prowl replied. "If you're going to be ungrateful, then go. Leave. I do not want to hear it."

"... What payment?"

"The payment for your contract. Usually I would take it, however I felt you needed it more."

"As in ma Carriers life?"

"Yes, that. Enjoy your extension." Prowl said as he stood, smoking hand now limply hanging at his side.

"We... Should probably go see Ratch'..." Jazz said, gesturing at his hand.

"I am fine." Prowl replied, walking past Jazz and towards the door.

"Wait, where ya goin'?"

"My office. There is work that needs to be done."

"It can wait." Jazz replied, standing and moving to grab Prowls elbow. "Ya need ta see Ratchet."

"I said that I am fine."

"Ya not!"

"I am fine!" Prowl snapped, turning on Jazz. The smaller mech didn't back down, glaring back defiantly.

"'Cause a smoking hand is _totally_ normal. Yeah, right."

"It is an unfortunate side effect, it will go in due time."

"Fine, bleed out over ya datapads. See if Ah care."

"That was my initial plan."

"Ah'm sure Ratchet won't be happy..."

"I do not care for the emotional wellbeing of the medic."

"He'll be less kind on ya next checkup?"

"Does not bother me."

"Do it for me?"

Prowl twitched, optics flashing. Jazz's tanks tightened as he realised he had made a mistake.

"Do it for you? I have done many things for you, more than you'd imagine, yet it is thrown in my face. I extend your freedom and you react with disgust. You are _infuriating_."

Jazz tried to step back, but Prowls hand stopped him.

"Ah-sorry-"

"So infuriating..." Prowl softly mumbled, and Jazz realised that he had moved much, much closer and that a hand was gently brushing his cheek-

Jazz thought his spark was going to stop when Prowl pushed their lips together, taking care to not prick his lips with his sharp teeth. All too soon for him it was over and he was looking into purple optics.

"I should not have done that."

"Prowl..."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's fine, really, Ah'm not offended... That's not what ya sorry about, is it?"

"... No, it's not."

"Ah should'a guessed." Jazz replied, rubbing the back of his helm.

"This- us- it could never happen."

"Tell me about them."

"Who?"

"The other person."

"You misunderstand, there is no one else-"

"Stop tryin' ta spare ma feelin's all'a the time. Ah've seen ya with a wistful look in ya optic, starin' off into space with ya head in ya palm."

"There _is_ no one else." Prowl insisted.

"Then why can't it happen?" Jazz asked. Prowl understood his annoyance, it was as though he were waving a hunk of meat in front of a starving dog, and just had cruelly ripped it away when the dog had managed to nibble it.

"Because of what I am."

"But Ah'm fine with that, ya know Ah am."

"You don't understand." Prowl replied, hand slowly falling away from Jazz's cheek as he stepped back. "I couldn't bear to bring you to harm if anyone were to catch wind of this. I am a demon, you are a mortal, and I am not selfish enough to knowingly endanger you."

Jazz scoffed. "How would it be dangerous?"

"Many would like to see me dead, or seriously wounded. You would become my Achilles heel."

"Ah guess that'd be the complete opposite of what Optimus wants."

"And what I want. I did not throw away my payment for nothing."

"Ah'm touched." Jazz flatly replied. Thrown away? Nice to see he cared so much. “… But thanks. Thanks for extendin’ ma life.”

“You’re most welcome.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> &&&& here's the chapter that gives this a NSFW rating~ (I'll go add in the tags I compleeetely forgot to last time, oops) If that's not quite to your taste or wanting, then skip the 6th section!

Sideswipe had noticed the change in Prowl.

He was glad that Jazz didn’t die, and although his twin didn’t show it Sunstreaker was too. Ever since Jazz had turned up on the base, Prowl had started to act weirdly and lost control much more easily. It was evident when he was training them or teaching them, and it made their lessons somewhat… difficult.

But now?

They were back to normal, a breeze. Prowl wasn’t getting lost in thought as often, and little slips weren’t making his disguise drop. It was clear that he had his spark back.

But why was Jazz still alive if that was the case?

Sideswipe absently doodled on a datapad as he pondered it. Sunstreaker didn’t seem to care that much – what did he say again? “ _It’s not my business_ ”? Something like that. Sideswipe, however, was nosy and he held no shame over that fact. All he could think of was that A, Prowl had bonded with Jazz, or B, Jazz had gotten better.

The romantic part of him wanted it to be that they had bonded, however he couldn’t see Prowl doing that.

Huffing into his hand, Sideswipe put his datapad to one side and sat on the floor to join his twin, watching as he drew shapes in the air with his light pen.

“Can you make me something?” He asked hopefully, cheering when Sunstreaker gestured for him to extend his arm.

“What colour?”

“Hummm, white, please!”

Sideswipe proudly bounced out of their quarters with a thick, chunky bracelet. Sunstreaker had drawn it in white, but had embellished it with glowing red circles. With the note that it would only last for a few joors, Sideswipe had cheerfully left to go to the rec room and show it off.

Soon, there was a nervous Bluestreak knocking on the door to their quarters. Sunstreaker had opened it, letting him in, but his smile faltered slightly when Bluestreak pulled Jazz in behind him.

He politely nodded to the horned mech, glancing at Bluestreak.

“Hey, Sunny, we were wondering if you’d make us bracelets too?” Bluestreak asked, sitting down in front of him.

Sunstreaker knew what he was doing. Internally groaning, knowing his twin was somewhat involved in this, he put down what he was working on (it was hardlight and wouldn’t fade any time soon, being somewhat permanent) and took out all of his pens.

“Sure. What colours?”

While Sunstreaker worked, Jazz and Bluestreak nattered away. It was more Bluestreak talking at Jazz – the mech literally could not stop talking – and eventually the conversation went to Prowl.

“Hey Sunny, you’re pretty close with Prowl, right?” Bluestreak said, allowing the artist to turn his wrist around.

“Somewhat.” He distractedly replied, carefully and gently applying another layer.

“Do you know what’s up with him? He’s suddenly so… cheerful.”

Sunstreaker didn’t reply for a moment. “Something good happened, then.”

“Do you know what?”

Jazz was weirdly quiet, and held his breath. He didn’t know what he was expecting to hear at all, but he couldn’t help it.

“No.”

“Aaww.” Bluestreak replied in mock disappointment. Sunstreaker released his wrist.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect.” Bluestreak replied, kissing Sunstreaker on the forehead. His bracelet held a golden glow. “Just a few joors, right?”

“Just a few.” Sunstreaker replied, turning to Jazz. “What colours?”

“Ah- uhm… Blue, please.” Jazz replied, holding out his wrist.

“Just blue?”

“Yeah. Ah’m not sure what’d suit me, Ah’ve never had anythin’ like this before.”

Sunstreaker shared a glance with Bluestreak before making his mind up.

“I can’t have that. When’s your next shift?”

“Tomorrow night, Ah’ve got the dead shift.”

“Good, you’ll be here for a while.”

By the time Sunstreaker was done with him, Jazz could feel the weight of the light and he was casting soft shadows on his surroundings. There were bangles and bracelets – more than Jazz had ever seen before, and rings, necklaces, chokers, things hanging from his audial horns and dots on his face. By the end of it, Sunstreaker had stepped back, Bluestreak joining him, looking the mech up and down in scrutiny.

“I need to use you as a model more often.” Sunstreaker said, pulling out a camera from his subspace. “Hold still, please.”

A few joors later, Jazz stumbled out of Sunstreakers quarters, the last of the light fading from his frame.

Christ, Sunstreaker could be demanding.

He’d turned his quarters into a photo studio, making Jazz pose with various items, by himself or with Bluestreak. And he didn’t even let Jazz see the photos! Brushing imaginary dust from his frame, he began to walk down to his quarters to have a quick nap when the alarm went off.

The alarm meant one thing; Decepticons.

* * *

Jazz hissed as he clutched at his shoulder, energon freely flowing from the bullet wound. It didn’t go deep – In fact, Jazz was pretty sure he could pull it out himself, but common sense told him that he shouldn’t as the bullet was the only thing stopping him from bleeding to death.

Ducking under a piece of debris, Jazz tried to work out where he was in comparison to the medics, and how he could get there without sustaining more injuries.

::Jazz, what is your status?:: Prowl commed.

::Ah’ve got a bullet wound to the shoulder, but Ah’m okay:: Jazz replied.

::Location::

Given the tone, it wasn’t a question. ::30502 86631::

Prowl cut the comm, and Jazz settled down more comfortably. His head was swimming, and he was oh so warm here…

A hand shook his shoulder.

“Jazz, Jazz, wake up. Don’t go to recharge here.” Prowl said, urgency bleeding into his tone.

Jazz groggily shook his head. “Ah don’t feel so great.”

“You’ve lost a lot of fluid.” Prowl replied, “Just stay focused on me, okay?” A field kit was taken from his sub space, and he began to take out all manner of things. “This is going to sting a little.”

Sting was an understatement. Jazz clenched his jaw to stop any sounds escaping, although he did nothing. If anything, it simply muffled them.

“That should help.”

“Thank ya.” Jazz replied, shifting slightly and hissing when his body protested. In the distance, the pair heard the Decepticons call for a retreat.

“Next time.” Prowl quietly said before making to pick Jazz up.

“N-nuh uh!” Jazz exclaimed, jumping away. “Ah can get up just fine!” He said, even as he struggled to his feet, head still swimming and his arm pulsing.

“Whatever you say, Jazz.” Prowl replied, starting to walk away. Jazz quickly realised that he wasn’t going to be getting anywhere on his own, leaning heavily against the debris that had sheltered him.

“Uh, Prowl?” He awkwardly called. “A lil’ help here?”

* * *

Ratchet had found the sight of Jazz having to be carried by Prowl _hilarious_. Not out of any malice towards Jazz – the medic was loath to admit that he held a soft spot for the cheerful, optimistic mech – but simply because he hadn’t expected _Prowl_ to do it. Then again, when he thought about it, the two were closer than he would have expected, given their difference in both rank and personality.

Oh well, Prowl was finally socialising, he couldn’t exactly complain.

But that didn’t mean there was nothing for him to complain about. Back in the medical bay, he ran his standard tests and found that his spark readings were far, far below the standard, and way out of the acceptable range. Jazz should have been dead.

Yet he was very much alive.

“Who the frag put Jazz on active duty?!” Ratchet demanded as he stormed into Optimus’ office, Prowl jumping to his pedes as the medic entered.

“I did.” Optimus replied in a confused voice. “Is something wrong?”

Prowl felt nerves settle over his spark. Uh oh, had he done something without realising it?

“He should be dead!” Ratchet hissed. “His spark is not healthy – it’s inflicted with a virus that should have killed him when he was a sparkling.”

Prowl nearly sagged in relief. Oh, thank Primus.

Optimus glanced at Prowl. Ratchet didn’t know about him – nobody did, really, but…

::Go ahead:: Prowl said to his Prime, nodding slightly. He moved to close and lock the door, Ratchet looking very much confused.

“I feel we have some explaining to do. Take a seat.” Optimus said, gesturing to a free chair.

“I’m fine standing, thank you.” Ratchet replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked very, very annoyed, and Prowl decidedly nervous.

Ratchet cottoned on.

“You two knew about this, didn’t you?” Ratchet snapped, engine revving aggressively.

“Yes. We did.” Prowl replied, sitting back down again. “But it’s not what you think.” He quickly ensured. “Optimus, should I explain?”

“No, I believe I should. It’s my decision that kept it hidden, afterall.” The Prime replied. “While it’s true that Jazz should by all means be dead, there’s a very good reason he’s still alive. The reason’s sitting next to you.” Optimus began. Ratchet raised an optic at him, glancing at Prowl.

“I’m finding that somewhat difficult to believe, given his field medicine skills.” Ratchet quipped.

Optimus continued, ignoring him, while Prowl glared at Ratchet. Rude.

“Jazz was a sickly sparkling, and Prowl formed a contract with his parent that would allow Jazz to survive until he was an adult.”

“But Jazz _is_ an adult. His birthday was almost a groon ago.” Ratchet replied, brows knitting together in confusion.

“On his birthday, Prowl transferred the payment back to Jazz – he didn’t take it for himself. It extended Jazz’s life – he’s living on borrowed time. Literally.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Ratchet replied, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“You… don’t seem to be very confused.” Prowl replied.

“I already knew what you were, Prowl.” Ratchet replied absently, waving a hand at him. “I’m your medic, remember.”

The pair both froze. Here they were, always walking on ice around Ratchet, only to find that the floor was solid.

“But even more curious,” Ratchet continued, looking the pair in the optic, “Is why you two aren’t trying to kill each other. I always thought Primes and Demons never got on.”

“I see no point in mindless slaughter.” Optimus replied. “Prowl has given me no reason to kill him, and he has proved to be a useful member of my command team and a confident.”

“Likewise.” Prowl replied, standing up and leaning against the Primes desk. “Other Primes I never got on with, but Optimus has proven to be rather enjoyable company.”

“So, Prowl formed a contract with Jazz that saved his life, and when that ran out he extended it again?” Ratchet replied. The Prime nodded.

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Then why didn’t my scanners pick up on that before?” Ratchet replied. He was half in a mind to get Wheeljack to take a look at them.

“Probably because his spark was fine while the contract was in play.” Prowl replied.

Ratchet clearly wasn’t too happy with this, but accepted it none the less. The medic hated that he couldn’t cure his patient. “Very well. But next time, consult me before sending Jazz into battle. He’s taking longer than usual to recover.”

* * *

Jazz was eventually released with a strict order to be on light duty and to not strain himself.

Did he listen to that? No, not really. That is, until Prowl found him dancing around the rec room and dragged him away by the audial.

“You’re still healing.” Prowl snapped, unimpressed.

“Ah feel fine! Besides, it’s not as if Ah’m not gunna rest later. A lil’ bit of fun never killed anyone.”

“You will be its first victim.” Prowl replied. “Go. Rest. Now.” He pushed Jazz in the direction of his quarters, punctuated with each word.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’!” Jazz replied, hopping away from him. “Ah’ll go chill out.”

“I _will_ be checking up on you.” Prowl warned.

“Sure, sure.”

Prowl frowned at him as he walked away, swinging his hips slightly. Prowl narrowed his optics at him.

“Want me to keep an optic on him?” Bluestreak asked, suddenly appearing at his side. Prowl jumped slightly, not noticing the mech approach.

“Please.”

Bluestreak nodded with a smile and followed Jazz, jogging to catch up and gently touching his elbow, pulling what looked like photographs out of his subspace and showing the mech them.

Prowl was still going to check up on him, though.

The moment Bluestreak waved the photographs in front of Jazz’s face, Jazz had accepted the mechs request to spend some time with them. In Jazz’s quarters, the two sat on the floor and looked at all of the photos. They were all the ones that Sunstreaker had taken before, when Jazz was covered in hard light.

“You look like a god.” Bluestreak said, staring at one particular photo. It was of the two of them, Jazz holding Bluestreak protectively, staring at something off-camera with his lips slightly parted. The way he glowed and the lighting made him look otherworldly.

“That can’t be me.” Jazz replied, taking the photo in disbelief. But sure enough, it was him, and he would never have expected it.

“See, you can look cute as a button!” Bluestreak replied, tapping him on the nose.

“Ah’m always cute as a button.” Jazz replied, taking another photo from the pile. It was just of Bluestreak this time, relaxing on Sunstreakers berth. From the way he was, Jazz guessed that the photo was taking without Bluestreak knowing. “An’ so are you, apparently.” Jazz replied, showing him the photo.

Bluestreaks face immediately flushed bright pink.

“Oh Primus, where did you get that?”

“It was in the pile.”

“That- that little sneak!”

Jazz laughed. “Sooo… you and Sunstreaker, hmm?”

“H-he’s just a really good friend!” Bluestreak insisted. “Honest!”

“A good friend with benefits?” Jazz teased. “Ah’ve heard things, Blue. Ain’t no hidin’ it from me.”

Bluestreak seemed to relent then. “Fine, fine. But please, don’t say anything! W-we’re trying to keep it on the down low.”

“How come? Ya cute together.”

“Sunny’s under the impression that other’s may not see it that way.” Bluestreak replied with a frown. “He doesn’t have the best reputation.”

Jazz knew of Sunstreakers reputation, and it was only his friendship with Bluestreak and how Prowl didn’t seem to be bothered by the twins that he knew they were falsely founded. Apparently, he was cruel, selfish and sociopathic.

The Sunstreaker Jazz had gotten to know what not cruel or selfish, he was quiet, calm, and responded in kind. If you were nice to him, he’d be nice back. If you prodded into business that wasn’t yours, he was sure to kick you back out again and wash his hands of you.

“They’d think he was threatening you.” Jazz guessed.

“It’s happened before.” Bluestreak replied sadly. “When we enlisted here, we decided that we would keep it quiet.”

Two joors later, Prowl popped in to find that Jazz had fallen into recharge, Bluestreak napping at the end of the berth. Spotting the photos, curiosity got the better of Prowl and he knelt down to look at them.

Most of them were of Jazz, and part of Prowl didn’t want to believe it. He looked _breathtaking_ , and Prowl couldn’t help but stare at them in awe. Jazz adjusted himself in his recharge, and Prowl decided that it was best if he left. A photo was quickly stashed into his subspace, and Prowl swiftly left.

Bluestreak cracked an optic open, watching at the mech left. Glancing down at the photos, he couldn’t help but smirk.

::Hook, line and sinker:: Bluestreak commed Sunstreaker.

::Which one did he take?:: Sunstreaker replied.

::My favourite one:: Bluestreak replied a moment later.

::Thought so. How long do you give him?::

::Well, there is a celebration this decacycle…::

::You’re so devious::

::Says the one taking candid photos of me::

Sunstreaker didn’t reply, but Bluestreak could hear him splutter in embarrassment at the other end.

::I’ll talk to you later, love:: Bluestreak said before disconnecting.

* * *

True to Bluestreaks word, there was a celebration. What it was for nobody really knew, yet everyone just seemed to roll with it.

Blaster and Jazz had been put in charge of the music, the whole base knowing how the two had a flair for it. All of Blasters shifts and free time were dedicated to music searching – it was no different than usual, granted, but this time he had an excuse for it.

“So,” Blaster had started, setting up his playlist, “I’ll fade songs in and out. Jazz, you’re in charge of arranging the songs to fit the energy of the room. Got it?”

“Yup!” Jazz replied. “An’ save the slower ones for the end ta wind everyone down.”

“Good, good. How’s everyone else?” He asked over the mic. He received either cheers or whoots from the others setting up. Grinning widely to himself, he hopped out from his booth and set off in search of a drink to keep up in his booth.

Jazz arranged the songs to his prediction for the night, and then set off to find Prowl. The mech was _not_ getting away from it this time, nuh-uh!

Slipping out of the room, Jazz headed towards Prowls office and knocked thrice. “Prowler!”

The door opened, Prowl standing in the doorway and looking somewhat unimpressed. “ _Prowler_? Really?”

“Ya love it really.” Jazz replied. “Ya gunna be there tonight, right?”

“Yes. Our _wonderful_ leader’s locking down my terminal until I go.” Prowl replied with a groan. “And he’s just locked it.”

Jazz cracked up.

“I’m glad to see it’s so amusing.” Prowl snapped, huffing and stalking towards his quarters. “I’ll be there within the joor.”

Sure enough, Prowl was there. Jazz mingled with other mechs on the dance floor, but it was hard to not spot the mech who appeared to be oh so out of place. Grabbing two cubes of high-grade from the table, Jazz made his way over to him.

* * *

Jazz giggled as he tugged Prowl along down the hallway. High-grade was crackling along his systems, charging him to the point of overcharge. Prowl didn't seem to fare much better, although Jazz was sure that he had previously claimed High-grade didn't affect him. Maybe it was a twins special brew?

Regardless, the SIC was drunk, Jazz was drunk and they only had one place in mind.

They practically fell into Prowls quarters, the passcode sloppily punched in. Jazz found his face captured by Prowl, and he was being kissed furiously. Everything Prowl had been holding back poured out at once, and Jazz did the same. His hands clung to Prowls shoulders, scratching and scrabbling to find purchase. Fans clicked on, quietly whirring to cool down their frames.

Breaking apart from each other, they panted and gasped for breath. Prowl looked into Jazz's wonderfully dazed expression and felt his lower abdomen tighten. Fuck, he _had_ to have it.

Jazz pulled Prowl back down, giving him a lingering kiss that caused Prowl to unconsciously follow him, before running away with a peal of laughter. He didn't leave Prowls quarters, but instead ran to hide behind the pieces of furniture in the room.

Prowl chased him.

It quickly turned into a game, with Jazz leaping away at the last moment.

"Ya can't catch me!" He teased, Prowls hand swiping across air again.

"Stay _still_ then!"

Eventually, Jazz did, allowing himself to be caught.

"My, my!" Jazz purred, leaning back into Prowls arms. "Ya caught me."

Prowl hummed, arms tightening around Jazz. Jazz noticed that his hands were clawed, although as buzzed as he was he found himself not particularly caring.

Turning to face the taller mech, Jazz looped his arms around Prowls neck and pulled him down, kissing him deeply.

"We're fragging, aren't we?" Jazz asked, lips brushing against Prowls as he spoke.

"If you'll allow it." Prowl replied, hands snaking down to rest on Jazz's hips.

"Ah most certainly am."

Prowl chastely kissed Jazz before releasing him, taking hold of his hand and leading him towards the berth.

"I have but one condition," Prowl began, sitting on the berth and pulling Jazz down to straddle his lap, "you don't look."

"Mysterious." Jazz replied, making himself comfortable. He stared into purple optics. "Ya have a deal."

Prowl kneaded Jazz's aft, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to Jazz. As drunk as he was, to a sober mecha it would have been laughable but to Jazz it was the most erotic thing he had ever heard. His panel opened with a snick, lubricant dripping out.

A careful claw was inserted, Jazz biting his bottom lip while Prowl tried his best to not hurt Jazz. When he didn't come across a seal - he wasn't sure why he was surprised, or angry at this - he didn't feel quite so guilty as he increased his pace and slid in another digit.

Jazz moaned, pushing back against the digits. His thighs trembled, arms clutching Prowl as he panted heavily into his neck.

"Been a while?" Prowl teased, sliding in a third finger. Jazz cried out, taking a few moments to compose himself before replying.

"More often than ya, clearly."

"Hmm, yes. Clearly."

Prowl began to feel and hear Jazz approaching overload. Taking a moment to decide, he suddenly pulled out his digits, marvelling the pearlescent lubricants that coated them. Jazz made a noise that signalled his displeasure at this.

"Hush." Prowl admonished, kissing his forehead. "Lie on your back for me."

Jazz did just that, enthusiastically laying on his back and spreading his legs. Prowl didn't nestle himself in between them like Jazz had expected him to, no, instead he had knelt down and placed a kiss on his inner thigh, slowly moving further and further down leaving a trail of kisses until-

Jazz gasped, hands gripping the sheets.

Oh Primus oh Primus _oh Primus_..!

Prowl swallowed every single drop of Jazz's overload, taking in the way the mech panted as he came down from his high. His face was flushed, his legs still obscenely spread, and fans roaring.

But Prowl wasn't quite done just yet. Part of him, the part of him that was winning, wanted to claim Jazz entirely, to leave no question about it what so ever. To make Jazz _his_ , and his only.

Prowl nuzzled Jazz just under his chin, carefully pressing on his throat. "Are you okay?"

"Ah feel great." Jazz breathlessly panted. "Can- can ya give me a moment?"

"Certainly." Prowl replied, pushing himself away.

Jazz sat up, not trusting his legs just yet. He kissed Prowl languidly, ignoring the taste of his own lubricant before he straddled Prowls lap again, sitting comfortably on his legs as he traced patterns on Prowls shoulder.

Prowl felt a throb behind his panel, and tried his best to not rush Jazz.

"Ah felt that." Jazz teased, hand resting on Prowls panel. "Open up?"

Prowl didn't need to be asked twice, but as it opened he held Jazz's chin and held it up, preventing him from looking down.

"Remember what we had agreed?"

"No lookie." Jazz chirped in reply. "But Ah don't remember anythin' about no touchie." He coyly continued.

Prowls hips jerked as he felt a hand wrap around his spike.

Jazz whistled. "Ah can see why ya told me no lookie. Ya pretty big, Hmm?"

"Among other things." Prowl replied breathlessly.

"Ah'll find out." Jazz replied, rubbing his hand up and down the shaft, thumbing the slit at the top every so often until he felt Prowls spike throb and heard the mech groan.

He released his spike and lifted himself up, looking Prowl in the optic as he lowered himself down again until he felt the head pressing firmly against his valve.

"Ya sure ya wanna do this?"

"Most definitely." Prowl purred, hips cantering up and pushing the tip of his spike inside.

Holy _hell_.

Jazz was torn between begging for more and pleading that he stopped. It hurt - Prowl was the biggest he'd taken - but the thrill of it and the fact that it still felt good was what made Jazz sink down further and further until he couldn't take any more.

Prowls claws dug into his hips, neck cabling straining. "Frag, you're so tight-!"

Jazz didn't reply - he couldn't even _think_ properly. Prowls spike was beautifully textured, and Jazz could feel it inside him. Every. Little. Detail.

Primus, it was perfect.

He pulled Prowl down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as he began to move up and down the other mechs length. Jazz knew that he'd definitely be feeling it the next day, but he didn't particularly care. Right now, he had exactly what he wanted.

Prowls hands dug into Jazz's hips, his own rolling up to meet Jazz. Every time, he felt himself inching further and further inside the mech on his lap and he shuddered. He couldn't believe it. Jazz was _there_ , it was _Jazz_ it really was he wasn't dreaming-!

Moaning into the others mouth, Prowl fully sheathed himself inside of Jazz and began to grind against him. The reaction he received was nothing short of delicious.

Jazz ground back against him, whining and panting and moaning as his hands scrabbled for purchase on Prowls chest, helm resting on the mechs shoulder. Prowl could feel hot, wet air being expelled from his mouth onto his chest plating.

Jazz's legs began to tremble, his valve clenching. Prowl knew exactly what was about to happen, and ground harder. Jazz came undone in seconds, gasping loudly as his visor brightened enough to cast a shadow. But Prowl didn't let up - he continued to grind against him, extending the other mechs overload for as long as he could. There was nowhere for the extra lubricant Jazz produced to go, so it was forced out of his valve and all over Prowl instead. Did Prowl care? No, not really. As Jazz begun to come down from his high, Prowl stopped and stayed still. His spike twitched, and Prowl was still _incredibly_ turned on but it wasn't worth hurting someone over. If Jazz had had enough, he'd stop  & sort himself out later.

But Jazz surprised him.

"Ya didn' overload." Jazz breathlessly said, visor searching Prowls optics.

"No, I didn't."

"Y-ya can do whatever ya want with me." Jazz replied, face flushing. "Ah-Ah don't mind. Until ya overload."

Prowls lower abdomen tightened and he lost himself to instinct for a moment. That moment was long enough for Jazz to find himself on his back and roughly pounded into, Prowl moaning and growling as he pinned Jazz down.

He instantly felt guilty, coming to a halt. "Pit- Jazz I'm-"

Jazz didn't let him finish, kissing him roughly. "Don't stop." He ordered, pushing back against Prowls spike. "Please. Don't stop."

Well, if there were no complaints...

Prowl leaned back over Jazz, completely throwing him under his own shadow, the only light coming from Jazz's bright visor and his own blazing optics. Glancing up at his shadow, Prowl realised that it wasn't as streamlined as it should have been, and with a start realised his disguise had dropped.

Well, frag. Jazz hadn't said anything, but as to whether it was out of fear or not...

The needy moan underneath him brought Prowl back, and Jazz was starting to look a little desperate.

Ah, fuck it. Prowl readjusted himself slightly and resumed his harsh, relentless pace, Jazz being pushed up the berth and almost into the wall. Jazz's hands were held in just one of Prowl's, above his helm where all they could do was twitch and clench.

Prowl loved it. Being able to overpower someone like this with no fear of any backlash, knowing that they were enjoying it just as much as he was. This was perfect.

They reached overload together, Jazz arching up with a cry, legs tightly wrapped around Prowl, while Prowl buckled over and gave a cry of his own, although it sounded more like a growl to Jazz's frazzled audials.

Panting heavily, Prowl pulled out with a strangled noise, equipment still incredibly sensitive. He was pretty sure he could still stand to go another round, but Jazz was already half way to recharge and he was loathe to disturb the clearly exhausted mech.

Instead, he closed his panel and nestled down beside Jazz, ignoring the wet feeling of the fluids that now coated the hips and thighs of the both of them, and pulled Jazz into his arms.

* * *

Jazz thought his helm would be hurting.

He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't expecting his valve to be stinging either.

Hissing, he sat up and tried to remember why. His thighs were still caked in now-dried transfluid and lubricants, the berth not faring much better. Surely if he'd had a good night, he'd remember?

Purple optics came to mind, and then he realised who's quarters he was in-

_Christ_. Prowl. He'd drunkenly banged Prowl. Even more curiously, Prowl had _let_ him.

The sound of running water reached him, and Jazz awkwardly stood up, grimacing at the feeling of fluid sloshing around inside him (he'd have to clean himself up later) as he waddled to the open door and the source of the water.

Prowl was under the cleanser, viciously scrubbing at his thighs. A few quiet curses slipped out of his mouth.

Jazz silently watched, unsure as of what to do. He couldn't leave with his thighs in the state they were, but seeing Prowl would prompt them into talking and them talking could be very, very awkward.

Too late, Prowl had looked up and seen him.

"Good morning." He said, turning back to his scrubbing.

"Mornin'." Jazz replied, slowly entering the wash racks. It felt weird to walk, phantom sensations of Prowl's spike still lingering. If anything, it just made Jazz crave it.

But Prowl wasn't his, and the previous night had been a mistake.

"There's another sponge on the side."

Jazz picked it up, giving it a squeeze - it was brand new. He carefully walked over, pulling his field in so as to not brush against Prowls. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to know what Prowl was feeling. He didn't want to feel the regret that would be rolling from him in waves.

Prowl handed him a bottle of solvent. Jazz accepted it, squeezing a walnut sized amount onto the sponge.

As he scrubbed, bits and pieces from the night came together. Things began to fall into place, and eventually he remembered everything. Prowl had _wanted_ to interface. He had been the one to initiate the events that lead up to it, he was the one who made Jazz overload first, he was the one who had pinned Jazz down and-

Jazz stopped that train of thought, not wanting his fans to click on in the cleanser. He just scrubbed and scrubbed, wanting to get rid of the evidence. Knowing that this was a mistake - Jazz wanted no evidence of it. It hurt less that way.

"A-about last night..." Prowl awkwardly began, doorwings twitching nervously, "I... I wouldn't be adverse to it happening again."

Jazz started. "That's a change'a tune."

"I know." Prowl replied, clearly embarrassed. "But I'm not going to deny that I enjoyed last night. I'd like for it to happen again."

Jazz was torn. Give the mech who had toyed with his spark what he wanted and potentially get hurt in the process, or lie to himself and the mech in front of him?

His body answered for him, kissing Prowl without bothering to consult with his mind as to whether it was a good idea or not. Prowl didn't seem to mind, kissing him back as his hand reached over to turn off the cleanser.

"I have a meeting in ten klicks. After, we will talk."

A kiss to the forehead and Prowl had left the cleanser, drying himself off. Jazz looked down at himself and realised he was clean. Shaking himself off, he moved to join Prowl.

"Ah'm on shift in a joor." Jazz replied. "Ya might have ta wait a lil' bit."

"A wait I can handle." Prowl replied.

* * *

Once Jazz got off his shift, he ambled back to his quarters - he couldn't walk fast due to his valve, and if anyone thought he'd see Ratchet about it they had another thing coming - and immediately flopped down onto his berth.

Aaahhh, so comfy...

... Apart from _that_. What even was it? It was hard and pointy...

Jazz lifted the blanket and rummaged around underneath it, finding the offending object. It was a silver blade, the hilt encrusted with beautiful gemstones. Next to it was its sheath - Jazz guessed he must have accidentally knocked it loose as he divebombed his berth. It was equally as decorated, with symbols Jazz had never seen before etched into it.

"Who's that from?" His roommate asked as they walked in, rubbing away an imaginary piece of dirt.

"No idea. Found it in ma berth."

"Ooh, sinister. Let's see it?"

Jazz handed it over, but the moment it touched their hands it zapped them, flying away and back to Jazz.

"Ah'm sorry!" Jazz spluttered, putting the blade down and rushing over to see if they were alright.

"Bloody hell! What was that?!"

Jazz frowned at them - they'd been watching off-planet movies again hadn't they? "Ah have no idea. Ah'll take it to Prime, he might know."

"Dang, this hurts. I'll go see Ratchet."

Jazz subspaced the blade and left his quarters, but Prime wasn't the first destination on his mind. Prowl was - he may know, and he _was_ supposed to see him after his shift anyway.

He commed him.

::Hey Prowler?::

::Jazz? What do you need?::

::Well, two things. A favour and a location::

::I'm in my office::

::On my way::

Jazz cut the connection and walked as fast as he could to Prowls office. True to his word, the mech was inside and was diligently making notes on a datapad as he listened to an audio tape. He paused it when Jazz sat in an opposite chair.

"So, about that favour?" He asked.

Jazz removed the blade from his subspace, and almost fell out of his chair in shock as Prowl jumped up.

"Where did you get that?" He asked tensely.

"Ah found it in my quarters, it was in ma berth."

"Get rid of it. Destroy it - I don't care how."

"Why? Wha' is it?"

"Something terrible."

Jazz continued to prod, but Prowl wouldn't let up on what it was or did - he just insisted that it had to go if Jazz wanted to continue to associate with him. Jazz relented.

"Ah'll give it ta Prime, he'll keep it safe." Jazz said, making to stand.

"Please, make sure he destroys it. In the wrong hands..." Prowl trailed off with a shudder. Jazz subspaced the blade and moved towards Prowl, gently placing his hand inside Prowls own.

"Ah'm sorry. Ah didn' know it'd scare ya this much."

"I-it's fine. I just didn't expect to see it again. Not so soon, anyway."

"Ah'll come back later, after Ah get rid of it." Jazz replied, kissing Prowl on the cheek before peeling himself away.

Optimus was thankfully in his office. When Jazz presented the blade, he had a similar reaction to Prowl.

"Ah don't know who put it there, but they must'a had access ta my quarters."

Optimus nodded grimly, making a displeased rumble. "I'll keep it safe from anyone." The Prime said, taking it from Jazz before the mech could warn him.

Nothing happened to the Prime.

Jazz frowned.

"Is something wrong?"

Jazz decided it would be best to not mention it. "Nah, just wanna know what this thing is. It's just a blade, why did Prowl freak out?"

The Prime looked down solemnly. "This blade has been in the hands of terrible mecha. It is not a kind one, and Prowl knows it very well."

"Wha' happened?" Jazz asked, curious as ever.

Optimus rummaged through the shelf, and handed him a datapad. "There was a war, long before you were sparked. This should answer your questions."

Jazz took that as his dismissal, so he bowed and left, tucking the datapad away into his subspace.

Unbeknownst to him, he was watched. They were annoyed that Jazz had given the blade to the Prime. A Prime! There was no getting it back now!

They slunk away into the shadows.

* * *

Prowl hadn't been able to get any work done.

That blade was back. That godawful blade was back! Who had found it? Who had desecrated graves to retrieve it? Who had prised it from cold, long greyed fingers? Prowl shuddered, feeling phantom sensations of lacerations on his back. Very real wounds delivered by a very real blade.

Prowl thought that was the end of it, that he'd be much older and back home - his real home - before it ever resurfaced. Apparently, he was mistaken.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to escape it.

But the fact Jazz had been given it meant that whoever it was who gave him the thing _knew_ Prowl feared it, and they _knew_ Jazz was trusted enough by Prowl to get close enough to use it. And that terrified him. How did they know? Were they that obvious? Maybe last night, perhaps, but the few joors they had wasn't enough time to retrieve the weapon.

Prowl gnawed on his claws in anxiety. He didn't care that his disguise had melted away due to his fear - let them see. Let them know the danger, the threat. Messaging Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, he told them to be on their guard and that someone on base knew about them. He didn't say how or why he knew - there was no need to scare them - but insisted that they had to be careful.

Sunstreaker felt nauseous. Bluestreak had also received something - a datapad with the names of himself, his twin and Prowl. A big, red x had been scrawled over Prowls name. Sunstreaker informed Prowl of this, telling him that Bluestreak had given it to Optimus already.

Oh Primus they knew about his students. Prowl thanked Sunstreaker before cutting the call. He was panicking. They had done nothing! They hadn't seen the war, they were just _sparklings_ they played no part! Why were they being targeted?!

"Prowl? Prowl what's wrong?"

A hand was placed on his own, lightly enough to be brushed away with little effort.

"They know who my students are." He replied, voice trembling. "They have done _nothing_ their quarrel is with _me_ , yet they've threatened my students too."

"It's gunna be okay. Prime's in the loop, he's got the blade - you're gunna be okay."

"If word gets out, hunters will come" Prowl replied. "And Prime won't be able to keep them all out. They're crafty, oh so crafty. I-I don't want my students to get hurt. They're not ready yet."

"Then we'll have ta deny all claims, won't we?"

"Your optimism is somewhat comforting." Prowl replied, leaning his forehelm against Jazz's.

"It's what Ah aim for." Jazz replied. "Did ya wanna go get some energon or should Ah bring some back for ya?"

"Probably best if you bring it back, I don't think I can calm down enough." Prowl admitted.

"Ah'll be back in a sec." Jazz replied, hopping to his feet.

"Jazz, be careful."

"Ah'm only goin' ta get energon, that's hardly dangerous."

"That's not what I meant." Prowl replied, lips pressed together.

Jazz slowly nodded, mirroring his expression. "Ah know, Ah will be."

And he was. He noticed that something was following him, but his scanners weren't coming up with anything and he couldn't see anything - it must have just been his imagination.

At the rec room, the feeling stopped. Grabbing two cubes he returned undisturbed.

"Thank you."

Prowl nervously sipped at his, still on edge. Jazz didn't know what to do, but Prowl was letting Jazz lean on him (okay, maybe it was the excuse that he was still hurting from last night that helped him there) and Prowl had one arm protectively around him.

It was nice.

But there was a question Jazz needed to ask.

"So what does this mean for us?" Jazz felt slightly ill asking the question. If Prowl decided that maybe it wasn't a good idea, Jazz didn't know what he'd do. Probably berate himself for letting himself believe that last night would go anywhere.

But if he wanted to continue it? Well, the danger involved had just been shown to him.

"I... I would not blame you if you leave. But I'd like it if you stayed - I cannot do this alone."

"That settles it then." Jazz replied, settling down more comfortably beside Prowl. "Ah'm not leavin' ya."

* * *

"Sunstreaker, wait!"

Bluestreak doubled his pace to catch up with the golden mech. "I-I don't understand. Why? What did I do?"

"Nothing. You didn't do anything."

"Then why are you doing this?"

Sunstreaker tugged Bluestreak into a cupboard with him, away from prying eyes. He waited a few moments for footsteps to pass before he continued.

"Because it is not safe for you. The last thing I want is you getting hurt."

"Sunny..."

"Please." Sunstreaker keened. "Please, Blue. Promise me you won't do anything."

"But I-"

"No. Promise me."

"I can't."

Sunstreaker dug his hands into the wall either side of Bluestreak, but the smaller doorwinged mech didn't move an inch, continuing to stare defiantly into Sunstreakers optics.

"You are frustrating. What do I have to do?"

"There is nothing you can do. I'm staying."

"You can't. I don't want you to."

"I'm staying."

"Blue _please_ you can't do this, you've got to forget about me. Move on and don't look back."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Bluestreak please I-I can't keep you safe. Prowl can, but I can't. I'm not strong enough." He said weakly, finally letting his expression crack. "There's something hunting us and anyone deemed important to us will be slaughtered too. I can't lose you."

"You won't, I can hold my own in a fight."

"Not against this enemy. They were bred to kill demons."

"Doesn't mean they're any good at it. I was _trained_ to be a sniper." Bluestreak retorted.

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Nope! I know what I want."

With I love you's whispered on their lips, they kissed just as the door was opened.

"Oh- Christ! Get a room!" The mech shouted, slamming the door and storming away.

The two nervously looked at each other before melting into the other again, lingering kisses exchanged before they decided it was high time they got out of the cupboard.

* * *

Prowl found recharge evading him. He was simply too scared - the dagger was back. Primus he _hated_ the thing.

Jazz, on the other hand, was still sprawled out over the berth, deep in recharge. He was _meant_ to go back to his quarters, but instead he had fallen asleep here whilst keeping Prowl company as he did some work.

Oops was all they had to say.

Jazz suddenly yawned and stretched, arms extending above his head as he stiffened like a board before flopping back down again with a pleased noise. "What time is it?" Jazz asked.

"Late." Prowl absently replied, signing a datapad. "You should probably go back to your quarters to avoid suspicion."

"Ya sure ya okay with tha'?"

"I'm just fine with it." Prowl replied. "I don't particularly need to recharge anyway."

"If ya need me, ya know where I am an' that ya can call me."

"I will." Prowl gave Jazz a reassuring look. "Go. Sleep."

"Aye aye!"

Jazz left Prowls quarters, quickly walking back to his own. If anyone were to see him...

He got back without a hitch, slipping into his quarters and into his berth. He could hear the other occupants of his room breathing - it hadn't changed, so they were undisturbed.

Settling down, Jazz returned to recharge.

The next cycle, Jazz woke up, grabbed a cube of energon, cleaned up in the wash racks and settled into his first shift of the day. He was on cameras, which meant he would be staring at screens for hours on end. Fun, if things actually happened.

Things did not happen. Ever.

First things first: check up on Prowl.

::'Sup, Prowler. Did ya recharge at all?::

::A little, but old wounds began to bother me:: Prowl sleepily replied.

::Psychological pain or the other kind? Would seein' Ratch help?::

::It's psychological:: Prowl replied, voice coloured with mirth. ::Now, you're meant to be on duty. Concentrate::

::Sir yes Sir:: Jazz replied, cutting the comm and returning his attention to the screens.

Five klicks later, he was bored as pit. Lucky for him, he remembered he had a datapad in his subspace.

Taking it out, he began to read.

And he began to understand.

The blade was _awful_. It was deadly and incredibly harmful to anything with any trace of demonic coding in their CNA. Have a demonic parent? You're boned. It made sense why the Prime could handle it yet Plasma couldn't - the Prime would obviously have no demonic CNA, while Plasma probably did. As he didn't have the same vibe Prowl gave off, Jazz assumed one of his relatives was a demon.

If Plasma had been a pure blooded demon, he would have probably lost his hand.

And then there were its welders. In the hands of ones who knew how to utilise its powers, it became an impressive blade that sprung from the users imagination. Scythe, Sword, Scimitar, Mace, Battle-axe, War hammer, you name it, it became it. And it slaughtered hundreds of innocents.

The book praised the blade to the heavens and back, stating it was something that saved their race by destroying the forces of evil, yet Jazz had yet to see how demons were the evil ones. They had just been slaughtered simply for _existing_. How was that fair?

Jazz flicked to the next page, and found it was a chapter dedicated to a very, very familiar mech.

A bright red chevron, wings split into three blades, purple optics that pierced those who looked into it, tentacles that sprung from behind them, and to top it off, they were black and white. Although the drawing was incredibly stylised, it was hard to confuse him with someone else.

Prowl. It was Prowl. Although the chapter named him as something else.

'The Despair'.

Clutched in the hands of the drawing were the severed heads of various other mechs, their mouths gaping in silent screams as their optics burned a bright blue.

"Hard at work, I see."

Jazz jumped and almost dropped his datapad, turning to see an amused Prowl behind him.

"Working very hard here, sir!" Jazz replied with a mock salute.

"Hmm, clearly. Can you find Optimus for me? He wasn't in his office."

"Sure." Jazz replied, leaning forwards and tapping away at the keyboard, flicking through camera after camera until the mech was located.

"Thank you." Prowl replied, pausing for a moment as if he were considering something before shrugging to himself and kissing Jazz on an audial horn.

Jazz bit back a squeak of surprise, as his audials were sensitive, and quietly watched as Prowl left.

It was hard to believe that this was the same mech being described in this chapter. A whole chapter, dedicated to Prowl! And Jazz didn't even know - and Prowl hadn't said a _thing_ to him about it.

Perhaps he was hiding something.

Jazz read on, trying to remember that this was in fact the mech he had willingly interfaced with. Some of the descriptions here were _awful_ and he couldn't believe Prowl had done them. Slaughter and pillaging of settlements with complete disregard as to whether or not they were involved in the war, the assassination of leaders, of the council, the destruction of cities and entire states-

It was so unlike Prowl, yet was something he'd do at the same time.

There were many descriptions of him in battle, of what he did and what he survived.

Jazz counted how many times he had encountered The Blade. It was more times than he had expected, given its reputation.

But to his shock and surprise, Prowl was the first demon to ever encounter the blade, and paid a heavy price. It was the demons first defeat.

Once more, Prowl had survived an encounter. And again. And again. And yet again.

Over and over, Prowl had survived it, although badly wounded each time.

A total of thirteen times Prowl had fought against it, against all thirteen of its previous users.

It was no wonder Prowl was so scared of it, he knew exactly what it could do.

Jazz turned to the last page in the chapter and almost felt his spark stop. It was another drawing, Prowl again, but he was holding someone close to his chest and he was... Crying.

It was weird to see him cry. Jazz had legitimately been convinced that he couldn't, yet there he was, clinging to a lifeless frame and sobbing.

The accompanying text read that this was the final resting place of the blade and its welder, and the final resting place of Prowls lover.

It was the line after that bit hardest.

'The Despair would never love another as much as they had loved them.'

Jazz didn't know why that stung quite as much as it did, but he offlined the datapad none the less.

At least it explained his fear of it. It had killed his lover - even Jazz knew that wasn't something anyone easily got over. He remembered when his Carrier thought that his Sire had died when he didn't come home after an infiltration mission. They were the worst ten cycles of his life - opening the door to his Sire, as battered and broken as he was, was a moment he'd never ever forget.

But Prowl wouldn't ever get to do that.

* * *

Back alone in his office, Prowl took the photo of Bluestreak and Jazz out of his subspace.

Jazz looked gorgeous, and he wanted to know how he’d done it. Was that hardlight? Had Sunstreaker been involved?

He was half of mind to talk to Sunstreaker about making a more permanent creation, but the realization that it would look suspicious _and_ draw attention to the pair was what held him back.

Glancing at the photo again made his hand twitch towards his console. How much would it cost…?

Feeling his face beginning to burn, Prowl sighed and covered his face with a hand. Primus, why was he getting so worked up about this? It wasn’t as if he’d never felt like this before…

Maybe it was because it was just so long ago. Swallowing down his nerves, Prowl messaged Sunstreaker.

::Sunstreaker, I require a favour…::

::I wondered when you’d be calling. What was it you wanted? Necklace, earring, bracelet?::

::You set me up:: Prowl deadpanned.

::I most certainly did::

Prowl sighed, glancing at the photo again. He couldn’t exactly complain…

::The necklace:: Prowl replied with a tone of defeat.

::And in return, I’ll get..?::

::Whatever you’d like::

::You have a deal, Sir:: Sunstreaker smugly replied. ::I’ll get Sideswipe to drop it off::

::Thank you:: Prowl replied, cutting the comm before sinking down, head in hands, embarrassed out of his mind.

He’d done it. He’d really done it. Was the room heating up, or was that him?

Still, Prowl thought, looking at the photo again. He’d see Jazz’s face light up brighter than any hardlight jewelry could.

Sunstreaker, on the other hand, happily turned on his white pen, pulling a torso model out from the cupboard and began drawing away with it. Sideswipe came in, curiously peeking over his twins shoulder. “What’cha dooin’?”

“Making a commission piece.” Sunstreaker said with a smirk.


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl felt exhausted. He hadn't recharged in too long, energon shots just weren't cutting it anymore. Recharge was direly needed.

Hailing Jazz, the mech decided to drop on by Prowls quarters. The moment Jazz had sat next to him on the berth, Prowl was in recharge and couldn't be awoken.

Highly amused, Jazz made sure the mech was comfortable before pulling the blanket over the two of them and settling down to nap next to him.

Jazz would ask Prowl about what he had read on the datapad later. For now, the mech could recharge.

But when Jazz woke up again, Prowl was still deep in recharge, face creased as though he were in pain. His hands twitched, occasionally extending his claws, and his arms tightened around Jazz.

"Prowl?" Jazz gently asked, hand brushing against his cheek. He was reluctant to initiate more contact, the words still ringing in his head. He felt dirty, tainted, like he shouldn't be touching Prowl.

The mech's face relaxed, as did his body, and his breathing returned to normal. Eventually, his optics unshuttered and flickered online.

"Jazz?" He groggily said, voice deep and sleepy.

"Ya looked like ya were in pain." Jazz replied nervously, trying to not lean into the arms that were wrapped around him.

"It... Was not a pleasant dream, to say the least." Prowl replied. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, Ah'm fine. Did ya wanna talk? About ya dream?"

"I... No. It's to much."

"Ah've got time."

"Not length wise." Prowl clarified. "It's hard to explain."

"Oh, righ'." Jazz shuffled so he was out of Prowls arms. "Did ya wanna go back to recharge?"

"That would be best." Prowl replied with a yawn.

* * *

 

Oh yes, he was _good_.

Sunstreaker sat back and admired his handiwork. He had gone one step further and had made the necklace slightly more embellished, more tasteful. Afterall, it was going to last forever. Or until it smashed, whichever came first.

Bluestreak watched curiously as Sunstreaker ensured the clasps worked.

"So, how much is this one selling for?" Bluestreak asked.

"He owes me a favour." Sunstreaker replied. "Whatever I want, no questions asked."

Bluestreak whistled. "That covers quite a lot, then."

"That's why I chose it." Sunstreaker gently took the necklace from the bust, placing it into a box. "Do you think Jazz will wear it?"

"Of course, he loved wearing one before."

"I hope so."

Bluestreak volunteered to drop it over at Prowls, and to his surprise it was Jazz who opened the door.

"Jazz!" Bluestreak squeaked. "I-I have something for Prowl it's from Sunny but it's private so you mustn't open it okay! How come you're here anyway these are Prowls quarters unless I interrupted something - oh gosh I did didn't I I'm so sorry!"

"No, no you didn't!" Jazz was quick to exclaim, waving his hands in front of him. "Prowlers recharging, Ah was just here to..." Jazz spotted a stack of datapads on the desk. "Drop off some reports. Here, Ah'll take that..."

Jazz placed the box onto the desk, hoping Bluestreak wouldn't question why he didn't leave Prowls quarters immediately after.

Bluestreak _did_ , but Sunstreaker ensured him that it was likely Jazz stayed to make sure Prowl didn't freak out if he had a bad memory cycle. Primus knew Bluestreak had done the same for Sunstreaker, and vice versa.

Jazz was bored, however. Prowls quarters were relatively Spartan in comparison to his own, with very few personal things lining the shelves. Jazz supposed that it was because he wasn't in here very often, but even then it was... Somewhat sad.

Settling back down on the berth again, Jazz yelped in shock when Prowl suddenly grabbed him from behind and held him close, like a scared child would a teddy bear. The mech was still in recharge, his engine now purring like a cat that had got the milk.

Accepting his fate, Jazz lay down beside him, trying his best to forget what he had read. Prowl never said that - it couldn't be true... Could it?

Jazz hoped for the sake of his sanity that it wasn't.

* * *

 

Much to his shock, Prowl woke up clutching Jazz and feeling more rested than he had on vorns.

Awkwardly releasing the mech, he moved to sit up and make sure he hadn't done anything without realising. Seeing that there were no dents or scratches on the mech, Prowl released a sigh of relief. Primus only knew how many he'd accidentally hurt in his recharge.

That's when he noticed the box on his desk. That wasn't there before, and it faintly smelled like Sunstreaker.

The necklace.

Prowl glanced back at Jazz - it wasn't worth the mech waking up and seeing it before it was ready. However, that didn't stop him from taking a little peek.

It looked slightly different to the necklace in the photograph, but Prowl didn't care. He could only imagine what Jazz would look like in it, glowing with an ethereal beauty only he seemed capable of...

Shaking himself to clear his head, Prowl returned to the matter at hand - Jazz.

The mech was in recharge, now trembling slightly from the lack of a warm Prowl. The demons doorwings twitched - the room _was_ rather cold...

He pulled the covers up over Jazz, tucking him in.

Prowl felt awkward. Just two groons ago he was telling Jazz that they would never happen, that it couldn't and he would never allow it, yet just a cycle or so ago he had admitted that he wouldn't mind fragging him again. What did that make them? Friends with benefits? Prowl felt his skin crawl - that just didn't feel right, not with how he felt about Jazz...

His optics flicked back to the box containing the necklace.

Whiplash indeed.

Scooping up the box, Prowl left his quarters and strode towards his office.

* * *

 

Jazz woke up with a start.

Oh _slag_ he hadn't meant to do that- he needed to ask Prowl about-

He wasn't there. Sitting up in shock, Jazz looked around his quarters and noticed that the box was now gone too.

He huffed, hand on chin. Typical.

Wrestling his way out of the covers, legs tangled up in them, Jazz slipped and fell onto the floor, legs now free and his knees either side of his head. Groaning, Jazz made to push himself up when he heard an embarrassed spluttering noise behind him.

Glancing up, there was a moment of silence as he had optic contact with Prowl before he narrowed his visor at him.

"Don' laugh at me."

"Too late." Prowl snickered, helping Jazz to stand back up. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Jazz ignored him.

"Aw, come on. I have something for you." Prowl nervously said, tanks suddenly feeling as though they'd shrunk. A wave of nausea swept through him, but he swallowed it down as he took Jazz's hand and guided him to the mirror. "Stay here, close your optics." He instructed.

Jazz followed them, but not before giving Prowl a strange look.

He heard the clattering of beads, and then the weight of something around his neck, followed by the sound of something being fastened.

A few moments of silence passed before Prowl awkwardly coughed.

"You can open them now." Prowl nervously said, stepping back.

Jazz was silent for a few moments as he looked at himself. The beads felt warm, and they glowed with the intensity of smouldering embers yet they were not burning. Dark blue in colour, they had light blue dots drawing patterns that reminded Jazz of an early morning sunrise when the dew still clung to everything it touched.

There were thick panels of the material, stretching four beads across that attached to the other side, allowing it to hang from his body. A row of beads after was another, followed by another row of beads and then yet another panel. After that panel, however, there were tens of hundreds of beads, all strung together with precision and care. In short, it looked amazing.

"Prowl, this is..." Jazz began, unable to think of words to describe it.

Perfect? Amazing? Wonderful? They didn't seem to be good enough.

"Do you not like it?" Prowl asked, doorwings tilting downwards. No, no Jazz wasn't having that.

"Ah love it." Jazz replied, pulling Prowl down to his level so he could kiss him. "Thank ya."

Prowl immediately relaxed. "I'm glad you like it."

"It's lovely. What's the occasion?" Jazz asked. Prowl mentally cursed himself - he'd completely forgotten! Jazz didn't live in that time, he wouldn't know its significance nor what it meant.

Prowl immediately looked flustered, cheeks burning up and his hands being wrung as his doorwings hiked upwards.

"I- well..." He awkwardly began, not entirely sure where to begin. Oh he was so stupid! He didn't even know if Jazz would say yes - if he didn't, it would make things so difficult and awkward... "It's a gift. A courting gift."

"Courting?" Jazz dumbly asked, hand coming up to play with one of the beads. "This? But- but it's so... Elaborate."

"I need to show off, don't I?"

"Not really, ya don't have ta win anyone." Jazz replied, working his hands in between Prowls, splitting them apart and worrying them with his own. "Ask me."

"I- I already did-" Prowl replied, voice tainted with his embarrassment.

"Nah, ask me like we do now. We don't give fancy gifts anymore, not outside the Towers anyway."

"I... Alright. I wish to court you, Jazz. Do you accept?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

 

Jazz didn't want to take it off.

He kept it on around base, only taking it off to recharge, wash or fight. It was a signal, a display: he was being courted.

As Prowl didn't receive anything in return, there was wild speculation around the base as to who it was, and part of Jazz wanted to keep it this way - add in mystery, and don't compromise Prowl. However, he also felt bad. Very bad. He desperately wanted to get him something in return...

His pede kicked something as he walked on his patrol. Looking down, Jazz discovered that he had knocked lose a chunk of crystal.

Idea forming, he subspaced it and continued his patrol, half on task but also half on finding more crystals.

Back in his quarters, Jazz set to work. After begging Bluestreak to help him (which didn't take much - Jazz had barely got the question out before Bluestreak had excitedly exclaimed that he'd help) he had polished and shaped the crystals, a small hole running through the middle of each of them. Now it was just a case of ordering them and slipping them onto the metal chain.

"Where'll this go?" The praxian asked, polishing a crystal.

"Ah was thinking it could hang from his horns when his disguise drops." Jazz replied. "Like an earring."

"Ooh, nice!" Bluestreak replied. "I was thinking of doing something like that for Sunny, but I realised that they're not big enough yet. I... I guess I won't be able to." Bluestreak frowned.

"Wha' do ya mean?"

"I'd have deactivated by that point."

Jazz hadn't thought about that. While demons were practically immortal, they were... Well, mortals. They died, their life span would rush by their counterparts in a blink of an optic.

"Tha'... That's true. Ah'd never thought about tha' before."

"I'm sorry. I don't usually think about it or even talk about it I mean it distresses Sunny and even Sides, neither like to entertain the idea that they'll have to live without me and- oh I'm sorry I'm making it worse aren't I? Okay let's just get back to making this thing- horns, yes? They curve around don't they, like a hook?"

Jazz felt his tanks sink as Bluestreak went on. He raised a very good point - he wouldn't be here forever. Was Prowl making a good choice here?

"Yeah, they do. They're nice though."

The crystal beads were eventually threaded on, the end fastened to two magnets that would allow it to be attached without having to drill a hole.

Now it was just giving it to him.

Bluestreak had gone to pester Sideswipe, giving Jazz the time he needed to track Prowl down and present it to him.

It was easy. Where do you find Prowl? In his office.

Giving it to him? Slightly harder.

"Hey, Prowl, do ya have a minute?" Jazz asked, poking his head in through the door.

"My apologies Jazz, I have a meeting with Optimus in a few klicks. Is it urgent?" Prowl replied, optics barely leaving his screen.

"Uhm... Nah, nah it's not. It's not work related."

"I'll let you know when I'm free." Prowl replied as he picked up a stack of datapads and tucked them under his arm, standing up.

"Sure, Ah'll see ya then."

Prowl didn't get to see Jazz any time soon. Sunstreaker had literally run up to him the second he was out of the Primes office, telling him which practice room they'd been given before almost dragging him in. As it turned out, something had been stressing him out and he had needed something to help him release his frustrations, lest he hurt anyone.

Sunstreaker grunted as Prowl pinned him to the floor again, one tentacle coming down to grip the ground beside his helm.

"Do you yield?"

"Of course!" Sunstreaker grunted, leg bent awkwardly. He could feel the paint beginning to scrape off.

Prowl relented, releasing the pressure and stepping away from the mech. "Now, tell me what's bothering you."

Sunstreaker was panting, overworked from trying to concentrate and score a point against the ancient demon opposite him. "I... It's silly."

"Clearly it isn't if you haven't managed to score a single point against me. I'm not even trying."

Sunstreaker looked miffed. "Not even trying- no! Take me seriously!"

"I do." Prowl replied with a frown. "However I am not keen on severely hurting my student because he cannot concentrate. Tell me. What's wrong?"

Sunstreaker looked at the ground before slowly turning his gaze to his mentors optics. "It's Bluestreak." Sunstreaker awkwardly began. "He's acting... Differently. I mean, it's tiny, it's only little things, but... It's noticeable."

"He may simply be worried." Prowl assured. "He received a worrying message and he knows that you're being threatened by something."

"That doesn't seem like it's enough." Sunstreaker replied.

Prowl paused for a moment before placing his hand on Sunstreakers shoulder. "Talk to him about it. You never know."

Sunstreaker nodded. "Enough with the feelsy bullcrap, another round?"

Prowl gladly obliged.

Sunstreaker left the training room with a dented cheek and a cracked optic. Just a split second was all Prowl needed - Sunstreaker was just lucky Prowl pulled his punch. But did he need to know Prowl was still putting in minimal effort? Nope. Ignorance is a bliss, as they say.

Ratchet saw the damage and nearly threw a fit, angrily waving tools in Prowls general direction as he worked. Words far too rude to repeat spilled from his mouth along with threats and lectures on how he had expected better from their Second in Command.

An eyepatch was secured over the cracked optic, much to Sunstreakers dismay. How ugly! He'd look like a pirate, like a fiend! Prowl made no comment, but Ratchet couldn't help himself.

Bluestreak was hanging around outside of the medical bay, and the moment he saw Sunstreaker he was at his side, tentative fingers tracing over where the dent used to be. Prowl silently wondered how he had known it was there, and filed away the thought for later. It was most interesting.

* * *

 

Oh damn, _Jazz_!

In all of the cycles excitement, he had forgotten to get back to Jazz! The mech was probably still waiting, and Prowl hoped they weren't too mad.

Checking the Rec room bore no fruit, so Prowl just collected two cubes of energon and walked over to Jazz's quarters instead. His roommate Plasma opened the door and informed him Jazz wasn't there, but directed him to Blasters quarters.

A wild goose chase in the making, Prowl thanked him but didn't bother going there. He simply returned to his office and sent Jazz a message.

The reply came in quickly; he'd be over soon.

Prowl picked up a datapad and continued to work. It took his mind off of things. Even though nothing had happened since the blade had appeared and he had begun to relax a little, it didn't mean he wasn't hyper aware of the situation. The blade didn't suddenly cease to exist because he wasn't looking at it anymore.

Jazz was always a welcome distraction. If only he were there.

As always, speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. No more than a few moments later, Jazz had jumped in through the door and hopped into the seat opposite him.

"Ah'm gunna need a mirror." He said, fidgeting slightly.

"My quarters, then." Prowl replied, putting down his datapad and locking his console. "My shift is over anyway."

A few moments later, Prowl was stood in front of a mirror, similarly to how Jazz was. "Can ya change for me?"

"Into what?" Prowl asked.

"True form, demon form, whatever ya call it."

Prowl nearly chuckled at the thought of showing Jazz his true form. Yes, no thank you. He rather liked Jazz being alive _and_ able to see. Still, he dropped his disguise.

Jazz absently traced his fingers over the curved horns that framed his face, gently brushing over the spikes before instructing Prowl into not looking.

He offlined his optics without a moments hesitation, frame relaxing. His tentacles languidly coiled around each other.

"Ya can open them now." Jazz said a few moments later, stepping back.

And Prowl did. Attached to his horn through the means of magnets was a metallic hoop, crystals of varying shapes and colours hanging from it. Although nowhere near as grand or splendid as Jazz's necklace was, it held its own charm that Prowl adored.

"Did you make this?" Prowl asked, the tips of his claws brushing against the crystals. They clinked together like glasses during a toast.

"Yup!" Jazz replied, popping the p. Prowls spark leapt in his chest and felt incredibly light, almost light enough to trick Prowl into thinking it no longer existed, before he came crashing back down to reality when he remembered that Jazz _didn't know_ what it meant. A handcrafted gift was very different to a gift that had been made by someone else - but Prowl wasn't going to tell Jazz that.

"Thank you." Prowl replied with a small smile of his own. "I'm sure it was much effort."

"Effort well spent." Jazz replied.

Prowl gave Jazz a sad smile as he ran the backs of two digits down Jazz's necklace. Jazz felt unease swirl around his spark, making him feel nauseous. "Wha's wrong?"

"I'm worried I won't be able to protect you."

"Ah'll be fine, Ah'm used ta this kinda stuff. Special Ops. Comes with the package."

"I hope it will be enough." Prowl replied.

* * *

 

The ground was wet and sodden with partially dissolved metal.

Tromping towards the glowing spires in front of them, they adjusted their cloak and sighed. So nearly there, yet there was still much work to do.

Prowl was there.

Aah, Prowl. He hadn't said hello in a while. They had almost missed him - the miserable bastard sure did know how to liven the party. And now? Well, he'd certainly had the planet fooled.

But not them. They knew from the moment they saw his ice cold optics that the mech was not normal, and when they heard his voice...

A shudder of delight ran through them. Oh, yes. They most certainly couldn't wait.

::Don't go too crazy, remember. My kid's in there:: a mech said over their comm line.

::I wouldn't dream of harming him:: they replied with a grin. So long as they didn't get in the way.

::Make it so. Remember your objective::

::Retrieve the blade and leave unseen:: they chirped back.

::Good, I'll be in contact::

The line went dead.

Humming to themselves, they jumped into a puddle, ignoring the way it stung. Fun, fun, fun! Energon would flow and it would be most splendid. Oh, yes, so very splendid!

But not just yet. No, no they had to wait. Wait until the moment was right, wait until the world knew what the Prime was harbouring. Expose him and his lies, show the universe his failures, and jump in to save the day.

They'd be a saint, ridding the world of their traitorous Prime and from Prowl. Saving the world, perhaps. But it was best to never think _too_ big, or you'd never be pleasantly surprised.

* * *

 

Something was bothering Bluestreak.

He seemed to be more antsy, always looking out of the window and panicking if he hadn't peered out of it for more than five klicks. Even though rainwater marred its surface and blurred it, Bluestreak still insisted in peering out.

"There's something out there!" He insisted over a cube in the rec room. "I don't know what but there's something and it's coming and I don't like it."

Jazz curiously looked at him over his cube. "How do ya know?"

"I just do, it's making me feel sick."

Sunstreaker shared a look with Sideswipe. "Perimeter alarms haven't been triggered, nor have any of the scout teams reported anything." Sunstreaker replied.

"Then it hasn't got there yet-"

"And so it's nothing to worry about." He snapped, downing the rest of his cube and scraping his chair back. The mech stood and stalked out, leaving a bewildered Sideswipe, a perplexed Jazz and a watery Bluestreak.

"I'm sure he's still touchy over his dashing good looks being marred by an eye patch." Sideswipe said, making to stand. "I'll go after him, will you be okay?"

"He'll be fine." Jazz replied, shuffling his chair to be closer to Bluestreaks. Sideswipe nodded before taking off after his twin.

"I _know_ that something's coming. I feel crazy but I've got this sense of foreboding and I can't get away from it." Bluestreak quietly said.

"What kind of thing?" Jazz asked carefully. Was it something he should ask Prowl about?

"It's big, but small. They're after something." Bluestreak replied, hand coming up to rub his temple. "Something important."

"Should we tell Prowl?" Jazz quietly asked, aware others could be listening in. "He might know what to do."

"You trust him a lot." Bluestreak distantly replied.

“Yeah, Ah guess Ah do-“

“You should.”

Bluestreak slowly stood up, sluggishly walking towards the door. Jazz scrambled to follow him – something wasn’t right. Something was definitely not right. It was as though he was in a trance, and frankly it was creeping Jazz out. Why was he in a trance? How did he get him out of it? Would he hurt himself?

So many questions, and the answer was stumbling out of the door.

“Jazz.” Bluestreak suddenly said, stopping.

“Yeah?”

“They’re not safe here anymore.”

And then Bluestreak faceplanted.

“Sh- Blue! Blue, are ya okay?!” Jazz exclaimed, falling to his knees beside him and rolling him onto his side, mindful of his doorwings. The mech’s optics flickered, and their hand rose to rub into their forehead.

“Oooooowwwww,” he groaned, wincing., “What did I do?”

“Ya faceplanted.” Jazz bluntly replied.

“Did I trip or something?”

There was an array of jokes Jazz could have made about going on drug-induced trips, but he decided against it – Bluestreak looked very confused, and the joke would go over his head. Jokes weren’t funny if they had to be explained.

“Nah, come on. Up ya get.” Jazz replied, helping the mech find his feet again.

“I feel like someone spun me around.” Bluestreak grumbled. “Where did the twins go? When did I get here?”

He didn’t remember it.

“They left ahead, remember? Come on, Ah think ya hit ya head pretty hard-“

“I need to find them first.” Bluestreak replied. “Something- something just doesn’t feel right.”

“We’ll look after ya get ya head looked at. Ah’ll call Sides’ while we’re there, okay?”

Eventually, Bluestreak relented and let Jazz take him to medbay. While Ratchet ran his various tests on Bluestreak, grumbling about demons and their miraculous ability to drive him insane, Jazz made some calls.

::Sides! Where ya at? Blue’s lookin’ for ya an’ ya twin:: Jazz chirped.

::We’re outside::

::But it’s rainin- doesn’t that hurt?::

::Nope, we’re not soluble like you mortals:: Sideswipe jeered, although there was no malice in his voice. ::Besides, there are coats, and paints if you have the time and coin::

::Coin?::

::Money::

::Ya gotta remember I’m fresh and young, old man:: Jazz teased.

::Ha ha, very funny. Anyway, we’ll be back soon. Tell Blue to wait in our quarters::

::I’m hilarious and you know it. Ah’ll let him know::

::Yeah, you tell yourself that. See ya!:: Sideswipe ended the communication.

* * *

 

The blade was missing.

Optimus frantically searched his office for it. He could have sworn it was in the safe at the back! Where was it?! Nobody but himself could have gotten inside, it responded to sparks and not codes. Furious with himself, Optimus nearly punched a hole in his wall.

Damn it, damn it, _damn it_!

Shame rippled through him. He’d let his temper get the better of him, and he’d failed Prowl. He was supposed to keep the weapon safe and hidden, yet it was gone. He’d lost it.

It’d be an idea to check the security cameras, he supposed.

Sitting at his console, he accessed the video footage with trembling hands. Part of him didn’t want to know.

Shock didn’t quite cover it.

Bluestreak. Bluestreak had taken it. Just how he’d managed to get into the office he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter – he had the knife. He’d taken the knife.

But something was off. He didn’t move with his usual bubbly enthusiasm, instead he looked a little like a ragdoll, his pedes dragging across the floor and his doorwings frozen still like Prowls were.

::Prowl, you’d better come see this:: The Prime had sent the message before he’d even thought of it.

::I’m on my way::

A few moments later, Prowl politely knocked twice before he entered. “What was it you wanted to show me?” He asked, making to sit in the chair.

“Don’t bother sitting, come around.” Optimus replied, waving Prowl over. “It’s security footage.”

“What of?”

“My office.”

The camera was situated just outside his office. There were no cameras inside – he handled sensitive material – but this one could see directly inside, and the safe was in clear view.

Bluestreak slowly stumbled onto the screen, and opened his office. The door didn’t shut behind him, allowing the other two to watch as the younger mech staggered towards the safe, opened it and removed the blade. Prowls face fell.

“How did he get in?” Prowl quietly asked. “I thought your safe was spark activated.”

“It is.” Optimus grimly replied. “He’s somehow managed to pick it open.”

“Where is Bluestreak now?” Prowl demanded. He was bristling, optics flashing purple as his hands shook and clenched.

“I do not know, however I don’t believe Bluestreak was in his own mind. Look at how he’s walking, it’s not normal.” The Prime replied, replaying the tape. Prowl watched it and seemed to calm down slightly, but then a new problem arose.

“Then can we be sure it was Bluestreak in that video?”

“We’ll have to check Bluestreaks subspace and quarters. If it was him, he’d have the blade.”

Prowl nodded. “I’ll search for him now.”

“Don’t hurt him.” Optimus reminded. “Do not give anyone any reason to harm you.”

“Of course.”

Prowl strode out. He would look outside first – that’s where the twins were, and Bluestreak was often with them. The hallways were relatively empty, and anyone he did come across scooted out of the way the moment they saw him coming.

“No! Don’t go outside! It’s not safe out there please don’t go outside it’s not safe it’s not safe-!”

Prowl jerked as Bluestreak suddenly blocked his way, throwing his arms around Prowl in an attempt to keep him in place. A few people had stopped to see what the problem was, but a swift glare from Prowl had them looking away and swiftly leaving.

A few seconds later, Jazz came skidding in, panting heavily.

“Blue, there ya are! Ya can’t just run off like tha’!” Jazz complained, stopping short at what he saw. Prowl’s doorwings were hiked up high in a v shape – he clearly was not very pleased.

Bluestreak, however, was sobbing like a tap and was clinging onto Prowl as if he were the only thing keeping him afloat.

::Somethin’s up with Blue:: Jazz commed Prowl in an attempt at beginning to explain.

::Evidently:: was Prowls miffed reply.

::Ah think he was in a trance earlier:: Jazz prodded.

::A trance?::

::Yeah. It was really weird, he wasn’t walkin’ properly an’ he was sayin’ some weird stuff. He hit his head pretty hard after an’ woke up from it::

Prowl glanced back at Jazz before making to prize Bluestreak from him.

“I’m not going outside.” He calmly stated. “I do need to talk to you.”

Bluestreak tearfully nodded, wiping away the fat beads of coolant running down his face. Prowl noticed how milky his optics were – that was far from normal.

And then Bluestreak suddenly sagged, optics flickering as he stumbled forwards. Prowls arms shot out to catch him, and he gave him a little shake.

“Bluestreak? Are you alright?” Prowl asked, Jazz at his side to help.

“Ooooowwwww….” He groaned.

::I do believe that you were right, Prime:: Prowl commed Optimus.

::Oh?::

::He is not in his usual mental state::

::Try not to panic him::

By now, Jazz had saved Prowl from the burden of Bluestreak and was working on trying to remember how he had got there.

“I did it again I don’t remember anything what’s happening to me?” He babbled, doorwings drooping down low.

“You will be fine.” Prowl said, placing a comforting hand on the smaller mechs shoulder. “Go to your quarters.” He shot a demanding look at Jazz – he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. Jazz gave a small nod, and the two silently watched as Bluestreak left in the direction of his quarters.

“Somethin’s not right.” Jazz suddenly said. “He keeps goin’ into trance-like states.”

“Prime already knows. I need to speak with Bluestreak, but I feel it’s best left until later.” Prowl replied.

“What did ya need ta talk ta him about?”

“He was seen entering Primes office. It’s also something best left until later – my office?”

“Ya office.” Jazz replied.

* * *

 

Jazz usually enjoyed being in Prowls office. It was warm, despite the chilly personality of the mech inside it, and it smelled of Prowl and datapads. But now it was just stifling.

“Bluestreak was seen entering Primes office and opening his safe.” Prowl began, wearily leaning against his desk, “He took the blade out.”

“The blade as in _the_ blade?” Jazz exclaimed, shocked. "B-but he knows it's dangerous!"

"Which is why I need to ask him why he did it. But if he's going into trances, we'll need to find out why." Prowl replied. "It may be that someone else is controlling him."

"Ya seem confident in that."

"I have seen it happen before." Prowl replied. "Mecha go to great lengths to see their enemies dead."

"Ah'm not sure how Ah feel about ya knowing."

"It was a long time ago now." Prowl replied. "I was able to destroy the mech causing it."

"Do ya think ya could do it again?"

"Given time, yes. If it's only Bluestreak they target, definitely."

"So, Blues got the knife an' he's going into trances." Jazz replied, counting them off on his fingers.

"You mentioned before that he was saying strange things." Prowl said, suddenly remembering. "What were they?"

"Uhm... He said that Ah was right ta trust ya, but... Someone or something's not safe here. He was insisting something was coming, and coming fast."

Prowl seemed to go slightly pale after Jazz had mentioned something coming.

"I have heard the last part before." Prowl admitted when Jazz prodded him for an answer. "It... It was before a huge battle. One of the first I fought, actually."

"Wha' happened in that battle?"

Prowl let out a bark of humourless laughter. "A femme who could send people into trances had half of my army turn against us, it was a horrific defeat. I had to kill so many of my friends before we worked out who had caused it, and how to stop it."

"Ah'm sorry." Jazz replied, Optics flicking down.

"It is fine, we had our revenge." Prowl replied with a hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing against the necklace. "She didn't live to see the next battle."

"What will ya do if it happens again?" Jazz quietly asked.

"I'd have to do the same. Thankfully I now know what to look out for." Prowl replied, frowning slightly. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Jazz reached up and traced around Prowls audial, lips pressing together.

"Ah'm gunna call ma Carrier." He suddenly said. "Ah know he's in the hospital right now but... He might know something."

"What could he possibly know?"

"He knew how ta summon ya." Jazz replied. "He's gotta know somethin' else. There were so many pads he didn' let me read."

"If you think it'll help." Prowl replied with a nod. "I'll authorise the call."

"Thank ya." Jazz replied, pecking him on the cheek.

Prowl sat at his console and typed in the command, tapping his screen when appropriate. Eventually he had established a connection.

"You're in booth 2." He said.

Jazz shot off to the communications room.

Prowl sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was far too old for this, and he regretted letting the scraplets follow him. _Ugh_.

* * *

 

Communication unsuccessful, Jazz had resorted to scouring the datapad Optimus had given him. There had to be _something_ on trances in here.

Page after page, Jazz had found nothing until out of frustration he skipped forwards a few pages and was faced with someone who looked very much like Bluestreak.

Only they weren't. They were older, much older, their chevron a dark blue and their doorwings marred with the marks of battles past. One optic was milky, almost blind-looking, while the other was piercing and bright. Their hands were cupping something in front of them, a glowing orb that fizzed and spun, smoke pouring from it.

The caption listed the person as being called The Sága.

Reading on, Jazz discovered that they were able to see into the future, and know when danger was near or upon them. Given training, they were able to apply it to all walks of life.

And instantly Jazz was worried that Bluestreak was a target. It was an incredibly useful skill to have, and if his suspicions were correct Bluestreak held that skill.

"You seem bothered." Prowl prompted as he walked in. Jazz was laying on Prowls berth, legs swinging in the air as he read on his stomach.

"Ya could say that. What do ya know about The Sága?"

"They're very, very rare and you're very, very lucky to have one on your side." Prowl replied. "I didn't think you'd know of them."

"Ah just read about them." Jazz replied, subspacing the datapad. "How likely is Blue ta be one?"

Prowl faltered.

"I... I'm not sure." He replied. "He would have always shown traits of one."

"Such as endless babbling?"

The corner of Prowls mouth pulled up at the corner. "I cannot believe you caught on faster than I did, and I'm the one with experience." Prowl replied, sitting down next to Jazz.

"Ah guess now we just hope Ah'm right."

"You're often right." Prowl replied, beginning to play with Jazz's pedes.

"I-hey! Stop tha'!"

Jazz dissolved into laughter as he clutched at the berth, attempting to kick himself free. "Ple-please!"

Prowl took pity and released him.

"Shoo, shoo." Prowl said, waving him away. "Go do whatever you usually do at this time."

Jazz shuffled away from him, only to make himself comfortable and offline his optics. "It's recharge time." Jazz replied with a faked tiredness.

Prowl scoffed. "I do not believe that this is your berth."

"Nah, it's yours. But it's comfier, so what am Ah ta do?"

"Deal with your hostile one." Prowl replied, attempting to pull him off. Jazz yelped and clung on for dear life, legs kicking. "Noooo!"

"Let _go_!"

"Lemme recharge here!"

"Why? You've got a perfectly good berth-"

"Ah'm worried." Jazz admitted. "About ya. With the blade..."

"And you want to stay here, where the danger is." Prowl finished for him.

"They might think twice if Ah'm here, plus it can't hurt me." Jazz replied.

"Oh yes, little Jazz. So threatening. No fear of the demon, oh no." Prowl teased, angling Jazz's face up so he could look at it. "Fine, you can stay."

Jazz happily hunkered back down under the blankets, curling into a pillow.

Prowl dropped his disguise and lay down beside him, wirelessly sending the commands for his quarters to go under complete lockdown. If anything got close, he'd know.

Jazz abandoned the pillow in favour of Prowls arm, tucking his helm into Prowls shoulder as a leg came over to hook around one of his own.

"Making yourself comfortable?" Prowl asked.

"Ah sure am." Jazz replied, finally settling down. "Nigh' nigh'."

Prowl kissed his forehelm before shuttering his optics.

* * *

 

Prowl couldn't move.

His body was _stuck_ , and all he could hear was the cracking of fire and endless, tortured screams.

But what could he see?

Jazz. He could see Jazz, peacefully recharging. Prowl felt relieved until he looked down and saw his hands covered in energon, and then the gaping hole in Jazz's abdomen and then the cables and internals spilling out. Energon and coolant began to flow from behind Jazz's visor, the metallic tang of used energon flooding Prowls mouth as Jazz's neck split open and-

Prowl suddenly jerked, being torn from his dream. His fans were working hard, his doorwings flat against his back.

Primus, what the frag was that?!

Jazz was well and alive next to him, hand reaching towards him and a question on his wellbeing on his lips.

Prowl nearly jerked away from him, pushed him away and reminded Jazz of just what he was, but he relented and allowed the contact. After that, he needed to know Jazz was still functioning.

"Ya were kicking out." Jazz said, hand coming down on top of one of Prowls.

"Bad memory flux." Prowl replied, looking away and digging his palm into his optics.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I... No. It's nothing."

"Ya sure?" Jazz asked, pointing down at one of Prowls feelers. It seemed to be very interested in Jazz's abdomen. It was quickly whipped away.

"Very."

"Need a cuddle?"

Prowl glared at Jazz as he stood up and left the berth, stretching his arms above his head. "You should go."

Jazz awkwardly clambered out of the berth. "Ya sure ya don't need me for anythin'?"

"I am quite capable of doing things alone."

"Of course." Jazz replied. "Ah just..."

The mech shook his head, shaking the last dregs of sleep from his frame. Without another word, he left.

Prowl probably saw him as nothing more than a burden. Jazz knew he wouldn't last long in a battle involving demons, and if that's what was coming he'd have to adapt. Fast.

* * *

 

Prowl couldn't get the images out of his head.

He had seen worse, so much worse, and he remembered the way it felt to have energon seep in through his joints and crystallise within his circuits, but there was something about it being _Jazz_ that made it harder to deal with.

He growled to himself. He wasn't meant to be like this, he wasn't meant to be so weak.

Jazz was ruining him, but he couldn't bear to let go. Prowl _needed_ someone to ground him, someone to keep him there. Jazz was just that person, but...

Bluestreak was suddenly standing there. In his hands was the blade.

Prowl leapt to his feet, doorwings raised high. If Bluestreak came so much as a centimetre closer...

"I'm sorry for taking it." Bluestreak said, optics pale. "But I had to. It wasn't safe where it was."

"It was safer there than it is here." Prowl replied. He didn't relax.

"They knew it was there. They know how to get in. You need to destroy the evidence."

"You need to put it back."

"You need to destroy the evidence." Bluestreak firmly replied. "Or no one is safe."

"And where do you intend on keeping it?" Prowl retorted. He was closer to the wall now, almost pressing against it.

"I intend to give it to someone."

"Who?"

"That isn't important."

"It is-"

"I will not ask again."

Prowl didn't reply, instead fixing Bluestreak with a harsh glare.

Bluestreak simply put the blade down on the ground and left the room.

"B-Bluestreak!" Prowl shouted, furious. "Bluestreak!"

The mech didn't return.

Prowl growled, swiftly turning to look at the blade again. A crackling force field had formed around it, slowly spreading until suddenly Prowl was trapped in the corner.

"BLUESTREAK!" He bellowed, absolutely livid. Oh he did not like being cornered, no, no he did not. His disguise shimmered away and revealed him to be baring his teeth at the blade, tentacles lashing the ground in anger. He wanted to rip something to shreds.

Even worse, he couldn't lock the door. Anyone could come in, and it was Prowls luck that it was Optimus who heard the banging and came in to investigate.

"Prowl?" He asked, equal parts shocked and surprised.

"Bluestreak." Prowl snarled back. The Prime looked down and saw the blade on the floor.

"Did you want me to move it?"

"Obviously."

Optimus knelt down and picked it up, the force field immediately dissipating. "Remember what I said, Prowl. I'm sure there's an explanation for this."

Prowl rolled his shoulders and didn't reply, instead logging onto the system and looking for the footage archives. "He wanted the security footage showing him entering your office to be deleted."

"A simple request. And why didn't you delete it?" Optimus asked. "We'd still have the footage elsewhere."

"He wanted it to be entirely destroyed, and I don't know his motives."

"That... Is troubling." The Prime replied.

"I'm deleting it from the system and security archives as best as I can, I'll need to go down and manually remove it from the database."

"What's the code? I'll do it."

Prowl pinged Optimus the code to the footage, and the Prime left to fetch the disk that held the security footage.

Prowl glanced down at the floor when he felt a tingling sensation.

The fucking blade.

Optimus hadn't taken it, it was still there oh _bloody_ _hell_!

Prowl only just managed to comm Jazz for assistance before the force field took down his communications device.

Huffing, Prowl sat down on the floor. He was so, so pissed.

* * *

 

Jazz had come in, laughed, locked the door, laughed some more, and _then_ subspaced the blade.

Prowl had not been too pleased.

"Aw, come on. It was kinda funny!" Jazz insisted.

"I struggle to see the funny side." Prowl replied.

“Well, you’re an old grump.” Jazz cheerfully replied. “What should Ah do with it?”

“Keep it for now.” Prowl replied, scrubbing a hand down his face. “As much as it pains me.”

Jazz took it out of his subspace, rolling it around in his palm again. “Ah still don’t get why ya so scared of it. Ah get that it’s hurt ya but… it’s just a weapon. Ah’d be more scared of the guys usin’ it.”

“You don’t know how it was made, nor of what it can actually do.” Prowl replied. “It’s best ability doesn’t involve cutting things.”

“Wha’ _can_ it do?”

Prowl paused for a moment, unsure as to whether or not he should say anything. But on the other hand, Jazz was still holding it, so he’d probably like to know what it would do to him given the chance.

“It gets into your head.” Was all Prowl was willing to say.

Jazz now sat alone in his quarters, the blade sitting on the end of his bed as he stared at it. His roommates were all in the rec room – Jazz had been invited, but he declined with the excuse of a helmache. It was a lie, but they believed him.

Prowl had said that it got into your head.

Jazz was still wondering how it did that.

After at least fifteen klicks of just staring at the thing, Jazz blinked, but when his optics reopened he wasn’t in his quarters. He was sitting in his cot, the doll that looked like Prowl clasped in his hands. He could hear his creators in another room, voices raised and fragile crystals shattering.

He cried, clutching the doll to his chest.

Jazz vaguely realized it was a memory, but he was getting sucked into it – he couldn’t get out, he knew what was going to happen next but he couldn’t get out no no stop-!

His Sire stormed, in, his Carrier following in not far behind. The doll was torn away from him, and as Jazz attempted to scrabble after it his limbs began to feel like lead and breathing became hard, every breath torture. His energon boiled it hurt _it_ _hurt his head hurt stop it stop it stop it_

Jazz gasped, hand clutching at his chest as his spark spasamed erratically. He could still feel his energon boil.

He reached forwards to grab the blade and stuff it back into his subspace when he was sucked back into a memory again.

Only it wasn’t his. It wasn’t his own memory; it was someone else’s.

A young, doorwinged mech stood in a burning slum. They were covered in soot, and energon was dried on their hands and feet. Despite the destruction about them, their optics were bright and lively.

Jazz moved closer, and was shocked to discover that under the soot and ash, their colour scheme was black, white, and red.

Prowl?

A bright red chevron adorned the top of their helm.

It was Prowl. Jazz was in Prowls memory.

The young Prowl quickly turned when he heard rubble crumble, and as his optics narrowed he sprinted away. Clearly, he was running away from something. Jazz didn’t have to do much to follow – he seemed to be… attached to him. When Prowl got too far away, he would suddenly be at his side again.

Jazz felt slightly ashamed that he was slower than a youngling.

Prowl suddenly skidded to a stop with a gasp as a tall mech with golden armor suddenly stepped out from the shadows. Their optics were a bright, bright yellow, beacons of light shining from a black mask over their face, and in their hand was a sword. Jazz almost felt his spark leap into his throat when he thought it was The Blade. As Prowl scrabbled backwards, tripping over a piece of rubble, the mech advanced towards him, cold optics fixed onto Prowls face.

Jazz tried to get in between the two, but the mech just passed straight through him. Well, he tried. Jazz scrambled after Prowl, who was now backed up against a wall. He was trembling hard, teeth clattering together.

“Mixcoatl.” Prowl said in a brittle voice.

“Prowl.” They replied, stabbing the sword into the ground beside him and kneeling down, towering over the smaller mech. Prowls optics were wide and fearful. “Do not try and run, you cannot escape this.”

Prowl was cowering backwards, shaking hard. He’d seen what Mixcoatl had done to his siblings, he’d seen what he’d done to his creators and family and friends – he was a murderer. Plain and simple.

And as his name suggested, a hunter.

“Why are you doing this?” Prowl demanded, trying to sound threatening despite how his voice was high and shaking.

“Prey doesn’t talk.” Mixcoatl said with a wicked grin, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle Prowls face. “It runs, it hides, it screams, it squirms.”

Prowl yelped when his hand suddenly pressed into his throat, and his tiny hands scrabbled and scratched in a desperate attempt to get him to let go. “Please” He gasped, “Let go.”

A foot passed through Jazz’s chest, kicking Mixcoatl in the shoulder and forcing him to drop Prowl. Jazz turned to see another mech, about a head taller than Prowl now was, and they were clearly a demon. Where Prowl was purple, he was teal. Even though nobody could see him, Jazz scooted to the side.

“Run.” They said, not taking their optics from Mixcoatl. Prowl scrambled to his feet and ran. Jazz had no choice but to follow, but even though Prowl never looked back, Jazz could see what happened.

The sword found itself embedded in the other demons chest, a shower of energon spurting from Prowls savior. As their body fell to the floor, Mixcoatl cleaned his blade and searched for Prowl. When he found he couldn’t see him, he sighed.

But the demon at his feet was still alive. Jazz didn’t know what they did, though – soon everything faded and he could only see what Prowl could.

Prowl had squeezed himself into a pipe, and was now wriggling through it. Despite how Jazz knew he was much too big to fit in, he somehow managed to wriggle along behind him.

Prowl popped out into a small room, and he staggered. He was panting heavily, coolant pooling in his optics. Scared. He was scared, so very, very scared.

“Why me? Why is it me?” He sobbed, finally curling up into a ball. Jazz sat down beside him, and even though his hand kept passing through him, Jazz tried to hold him.

Jazz came back again clutching the blanket on his berth in his hands, arms shaking.

“Wha’ _are_ ya?” Jazz hissed, glaring at the blade.

Mixcoatl. Mixcoatl, he’d heard it before, but where? Jazz slowly sat back against the wall, head still pounding and energon still too hot. His Sire had been talking about him, in a story, but what was the story?

Hunter, Mixcoatl was a hunter. Jazz remembered now – the story.  His Sire had said it was no more than a myth, than a legend. A story into getting naughty children to behave. The exact words Jazz couldn’t remember – he seemed to remember being more interested in fiddling with the eyes on the doll – but he remembered what it was about.

A hunter who was so hell-bent on getting stronger and killing his prey, he lost his sanity and an angel locked him away in a sword.

Jazz looked at the blade.

Mixcoatl’s armor immediately came to mind. Was there any truth to that story? Or was it just borrowing the name of an extremely brutal hunter?

Jazz fished out the datapad that Optimus had given him and searched for any mention of Mixcoatl. He found a section; but he didn’t like what he read.

_A valiant warrior, Mixcoatl was brave and just. He sacrificed himself to save us all, creating a blade with the assistance of an angel. This blade was given no name, for names could be twisted. With this blade, his student paved the way to victory._

Jazz offlined the datapad, a bad taste in his mouth. The Mixcoatl in Prowls memory was anything _but._ He was a prick! Comparing Prowl to prey, to something that was killed for entertainment…

Part of Jazz didn’t want Mixcoatl and The Blade to be related. If they were… He’d touched it. He’d carried it, it had been in his subspace – he felt unclean. But if they weren’t, Jazz would be clutching at straws as to just why Prowl hated it so much.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Jazz shoved the blade into his subspace again, trying to ignore just what it could be, and flopped down.

Recharge wouldn’t be coming any time soon, but if he pretended, nobody would bother him and it would give him time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inmonochrome drew Demon Prowl!  
> http://theparallelwall.tumblr.com/post/116504545908/how-i-imagined-silenceofthellamas-demon-prowl-from  
> I seriously teared up when I got it, and for like a week after whenever I looked at I just...  
> Aka I am a very, very happy bunny. I can't express how happy & grateful I am ;u;  
> Mixcoatl is the Aztec god of hunting and war! It's horrid to spell and say, but it's easier than Mjölnir...  
> Also, the necklace Jazz received actually exists! It's a jet necklace they found at Inchmarnock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliiiightly edited as plans changed.

The next time the Twins had a lesson, Prowl had forgotten to remove the jewelry from his horn.

So he dropped his disguise without a moments hesitation, only for Sunstreaker to look shocked and Sideswipe to snicker. Prowls hand shot up to investigate and sure enough, he found the gift Jazz had given him. Face burning, he quickly removed it, but the damage was done.

"Moving a bit quickly, aren't we Prowl?" Sideswipe teased.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Prowl replied. He gestured for the two to also drop their disguises. "The lesson's started, you are dillydallying."

"Sure, sure." Sideswipe replied while Sunstreaker was still trying to wipe the smirk off his face. Their disguises dropped, and Prowl was amazed to note that Sunstreaker had something new.

"Sunstreaker, lift your arms." Prowl instructed, walking closer to get a better look.

Sure enough, he had row after row of what looked like lacerations on his side running from his armpit down to his hip. Sideswipe looked on curiously, unsure as to what he was looking at. He glanced at Prowl for en explanation.

"That leaves very little question about your creators." Prowl said, stepping back and gesturing for his arms to go down.

"E-excuse me?" Sunstreaker stuttered. Sideswipe was also looking at Prowl for an explanation.

"They are the starting point for wings." Prowl replied, placing his hands on Sunstreakers back between his shoulder blades. "And here is where they'll be."

"H-what?" Sunstreaker felt oh so very eloquent, but Pit he was confused. Wings?! _Wings?!_ Why wings? Did he even need them? How? As far as he knew, his creators couldn't fly. Demons couldn't fly.

Sideswipe looked as equally confused, if a bit envious. He wanted wings too! Imagine the fun they'd have, oh wings...

Upon seeing their confused expressions, Prowl sighed. They never listened, did they?

"Listen this time, I shan't be repeating it." Prowl said with a smack to the side of the twins heads. "You know who one of your creators are, yes?"

"Yeah, but he couldn't fly." Sideswipe replied.

"If I am right, your other one could." Prowl replied.

A pause.

"An... An angel?"

"You flatter her." Prowl dead panned. "Ziz probably loved hearing that."

"Ziz?" Sunstreaker quietly asked, gently rubbing his fingers over the slits in his side.

"Unfortunately." Prowl dryly replied. "I did suspect it, but I never had the proof."

"Who's Ziz?" Sideswipe asked. There was a loud crack of thunder outside, and Prowl slowly turned to glare upwards.

"The flying chaos." Prowl replied. "Change of plan. Sit down, I'll need to do some explaining."

The twins promptly sat down, both looking equally as nervous as the other. "Will this change anything?" Sunstreaker asked.

"It could." Prowl replied. "Ziz is very high profile, she's one of the top three most wanted."

"But- but _who_ is she?!" Sideswipe demanded.

"She's another demon. Are you familiar with behemoth and leviathan?"

Sunstreakers mouth dropped into an 'O' as he realised who she was. "She's one of the big three."

"Then how did we end up getting trained by you? No offence, Prowl."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "So pleasant. Here I was thinking I'd taught you better." He stood and stepped back, going back and back and back until he reached the far wall. The twins stayed sitting, dumbstruck. What the heck was he doing?

"But apparently not. I know her for a particularly good reason, and it's why she let me train you." Prowl continued, his optics changing colour and appearing to... Glow...

"I get it." Sunstreaker blurted out before Prowl could do anything. "You-you don't need to show us."

"My, my. Scared are we?" Prowl asked, optics returning to normal.

"No, it's just... Not safe enough. Here, I mean."

"Good." Prowl replied, joining them on the floor again. "It's a pain to get out of that state."

"So, you're like..." Sideswipe trailed off, hands gesturing wildly as he tried to find the words. "Important." He finished lamely.

"Why did you never tell us?" Sunstreaker demanded. "This is kind of a _huge_ thing-!"

"It was never important." Prowl replied. "Before, I didn't think I'd have to teach you anything that advanced. Now, I'm not so sure as to whether or not I _don't_."

Sideswipe flopped down onto his back. "Just give me a moment."

Sunstreaker did the same. "It's a lot to take in."

"Take your time." Prowl replied.

* * *

 

His spark hurt.

Jazz rubbed at his chest as he patrolled, gun in his hand. It felt like it was burning, fire licking away at it from the inside.

And then, suddenly, it disappeared.

Jazz knew that he’d have to prod Prowl about this later, but right now he was investigating a blip in their shielding.  For a few seconds, the shield had disintegrated in this area before rebuilding itself. As per usual, Red Alert was panicking and driving everyone insane (except from Inferno, but Primus knew where he got his patience from) and so Jazz had been sent to take a look.

He didn’t see anyone, or anything for that matter, and his scanners weren’t picking up anything.

::The area’s clear:: Jazz said, giving the area another sweep. Was he missing something?

::Thank’s fer lookin’ Jazz:: Inferno replied. ::I appreciate it::

::No problemo:: Jazz replied before ending the communication. Hands on hips, he sighed. Granted, he had needed the walk and fresh air after the memories he’d been subjected to the night before, but something felt… off.

Energy was crackling around the shield, making it visible. Jazz looked at it uncertainly, reaching a hand towards it. Electricity arched off and onto his finger, but it didn’t hurt.

It just forced his subspace to open.

He whacked his hand away, quickly grabbing whatever had fallen out and shoving it back in again. What the heck? Luckily no one had been around to see it, so nobody knew that he had the blade still tucked away, but it didn’t mean Jazz was comfortable.

::Jazz to Inferno::

::Jazz?::

::The shields busted:: Jazz said, transforming and driving away. ::Ah can see it::

::Noted::

* * *

 

They tutted as they had to hunker down under a shoddily assembled shelter yet again.

Clearly, Ziz was watching them. The number of acid storms that had come their way since they had left the guild… Well, it was no coincidence. Even the weather reporters were baffled, and who knew what the scientists would think? They weren’t a scientist, they were a hunter.

Regardless, they were now within the shield (now _that_ had been a tough nut to crack) and the blade was almost within reach.

As the storm cleared, they poked their head out, observing their surroundings. Someone was driving towards them.

Tucking back away again, they watched as Jazz zoomed past them. Evidently, Ziz was not too fond of the idea of hurting this one. They grinned. What a fantastic way to paint a giant bulls-eye on them. Pick me, pick me, they don’t want me dead!

Oh yes, this hunt would be most delicious.

_Don’t go too crazy, my kid’s in there._

They clenched their jaw. Well, slag. They could kill Jazz for sport, to rile up the demons, or he could leave him alone like he was supposed to.

“Oh, must you tempt me.” They muttered to themselves as they slunk from shadow to shadow, following after Jazz.

At the entrance to the base, Jazz was greeted by a doorwinged mech. Their spark leapt when they thought it was Prowl, but it quickly crashed again when they realized that it wasn’t. Wrong colours, wrong gait, wrong optics and wrong voice. Different mech. They were annoyed – oh how they longed to hear Prowl again. What fun it would be to hear his voice cut out as their energon ran dry…

They could hear snippets of conversation.

“Jazz, you’ve got to get inside, now, now there’s something wrong something’s not right-“

“Ah know, Ah was bein’ followed-“

“What?!”

“Ah couldn’t detect them-“

“Inside-“

The door suddenly slammed shut.

::Realgar, what’s the holdup?::

They twitched. ::Ziz is greeting me with acid::

::I _told_ you to paint yourself. No matter, just hurry up. They’re getting antsy::

::Aye aye, cappin’:: Realgar cheekily replied before cutting the comm. Popping their joints, they looked for a way in.

* * *

 

Sunstreaker sat curled on his berth, head in hands.

Why was it always him? Why did he always have to be the monster? It was always him. Always. Never ever his twin - Sideswipe had been spared, fate wasn't always cruel. Sunstreaker would much rather it was himself who suffered than his upbeat, overexcitable twin.

He was always the monster.

First he was the blood-crazed fiend, a title earned through his bloodlust in battle. Maybe he deserved it, maybe it was the fanciful lies of a mech he had accidentally wronged. But Sunstreaker was seen as the freak right off the bat. He was antisocial, and grumpy and obsessed with his appearance and-

His head was clutched in his hands, a tremble in his shoulders.

Monster monster monster freak freak freak

"Sunny?"

The voice was so, so quiet. Was he sure he had even heard it? He wasn't. So he ignored it.

"Sunny?" The voice again, louder this time. More insistent. Sunstreaker looked up, through his fingers.

Blue... It was Bluestreak.

The one mech who didn't see him for what he really was.

When Bluestreak had found the mysterious folds on his side, the mech had spent joors laying beside him, running his fingers over the lumps of metal and committing them to memory. He had said he didn't mind, he had said he liked them.

Sunstreaker let Bluestreak come closer, and didn't flinch when a hand was gently placed over one of his own.

"Let me see you." Bluestreak asked, kneeling down next to him. "Please? Whatever it is, it doesn't matter-"

"It does."

"How so?"

Sunstreaker uncurled, hands on lap as he stared at them. "It just proves what everyone thinks. I really am a monster, Blue."

Bluestreak placed a single digit over the others lips. "Hush, no more of that. You're not, Sunny. Listen to me when I say you're not."

"You don't _understand_ , I-I'm not who you think, I..." Sunstreaker scraped a hand down his face, the other clenching into a fist. Why couldn't he say it?! This was pathetic, this was pitiful-!

But they were Bluestreak, and Bluestreak didn't care.

"Sunny," Bluestreak said softly, one hand resting over Sunstreakers clenched one, the other gently encouraging Sunstreakers other hand from his face. "You are you. I know you, and you're not a monster."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You haven't hurt me."

"Yet."

"Yet." Bluestreak acknowledged, "but I don't think you will on purpose."

"I'm scared I will." Sunstreaker quietly replied. Bluestreak was quiet for a moment, carefully studying him. He had an idea, but if he was rejected it would be embarrassing, he wouldn't be able to look Sunstreaker in the optic for a while...

"Sunny..." He said, kissing along his jaw. "I love you."

"I love you too." He replied, capturing Bluestreaks lips with his own.

"I love you, and I want you to hurt me."

Sunstreaker faltered. "Blue?"

"Please. I-it might help, you won't feel so bad if you do it again..."

"I refuse."

"Please." Bluestreak said, a hand trailing down his chassis before resting on the front of his hips, palm pressing inwards. Sunstreaker just stared at him, not moving or making a single sound.

"I... Fine." Bluestreak muttered, moving to sit at the end of the berth. "Maybe not, then."

"Blue, I'm sorry. I just don't want to hurt you."

"Like we haven't all heard that before." Bluestreak replied. "One cycle, I will hurt you and neither of us will be able to help it." He said. Sunstreaker looked confused.

"What?"

"I'm a mortal, Sunny. One cycle, you'll wake up and I won't be there anymore. And it will hurt."

"I... Haven't thought much on this. It's not something I like to think about." Sunstreaker bitterly replied. "You're not making me feel much better, Blue."

Bluestreak drooped. Sunstreaker was right; all he had done so far was stress him out even more.

"I-I'm sorry I don't mean to do this I just- Sunny please don't be mad I'm sorry."

Sunstreaker shushed him, placing a finger to his lips. "Breathe, Blue."

Bluestreak took in a deep breath and slowly released it.

"Sunny..."

"Save it." Sunstreaker said. "Not a word, only a yes or a no, okay?"

"Yes." Bluestreak replied.

"Were you asking me to interface with you?"

So blunt and to the point, Bluestreak mused.

"Yes."

"And you wanted me to be rough."

Bluestreaks face began to heat up.

"Yes."

"It could be arranged."

"I-arranged?" Bluestreak asked. "B-b-but I don't see why we need to get others involved."

"I have no intention to share." Sunstreaker darkly replied. "Simply want to have the time."

"Sunny, we've got the time now..." Bluestreak said, wriggling his hips. "Nothing special has to happen."

"Are you sure? I'm not exactly gentle."

"I'm fine with that, and you know it." Bluestreak teased in reply. "Are _you_ sure?"

"Most definitely." Sunstreaker replied, patting his lap. Bluestreak sat with his legs either side of Sunstreakers hips and nuzzled their noses together. He looped his arms around Sunstreakers neck, humming into the metal as Sunstreaker wrapped his own around Bluestreak.

"Thank you." He quietly said, muffled by Bluestreaks neck.

"What for?" Bluestreak replied just as quietly.

"For not being scared."

"How can I be scared of you?" Bluestreak replied, pinching his cheek and wiggling it. He laughed when Sunstreaker frowned at him. "Sorry, sorry."

"What about... If I do _this_!"

Bluestreak was suddenly on his back, Sunstreaker looming over him and-

"Nooo! That tickles!"

Bluestreak couldn't help but laugh as Sunstreaker ruthlessly tickled him, legs kicking as he squealed. "Please please please stop! Sunny pleassee!"

Sunstreaker let out a laugh of his own and relented, sitting back as he let Bluestreak get his breath back.

"You... You tickle monster!" Bluestreak panted, pushing himself back up again. He wiggled his fingers at Sunstreaker, mischievous grin on his face. "Why, I ought to repay the favour!"

Sunstreaker laughed and simply gathered his hands up into his own, kissing him on the forehead. "Yes, very threatening Bluestreak."

"I know, right?" Bluestreak chirped. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle me?"

"Ooh, I don't know..." Sunstreaker replied, pulling Bluestreak back into his lap again. "Why don't we find out?"

Bluestreak trembled with barely contained excitement. "Okay."

A few minutes later saw Bluestreak on his back, a number of jelly pillows propping his doorwings up as Sunstreaker teased his valve with his tongue. Bluestreak had bitten down on two fingers to muffle the sounds he made - some mechs had decided to _conveniently_ stop riiight outside Sunstreakers door and catch up. While their conversation was muffled, the two could still make it out and they were almost certain that the mechs outside the door would be able to hear them, too.

But Sunstreaker wasn't about to stop.

He sucked on the node, flicking it every so often with his tongue. Every time Bluestreak pushed into the touch he drew back and kissed his inner thigh until he settled back down again.

"Sunny..!" Bluestreak whispered, hand coming down to tug him closer. "P-please!"

"Patience. I'm not sharing."

"You're not, you're not, just please please please..!"

"No." Sunstreaker replied with a harsh nip. He smoothed over it, gently kissing and licking the bite. "Not until they're gone. Your release is mine and mine alone."

Bluestreak whimpered around his own fingers, helm falling backwards. "Sunny, _please_..."

The voices from outside the door suddenly stopped, and Bluestreak realised he must have been loud enough to hear. He froze.

::I'm so sorry:: he said to Sunstreaker.

::No more cat and mouse:: he replied, nibbling Bluestreaks inner thigh. Eventually, the voices outside returned and they heard a door open and another set of pedes walk away.

"Do-do you think they know?" Bluestreak quietly said.

"Time will tell." Sunstreaker replied, kissing Bluestreaks valve. "Do you still want to continue?"

"Primus, yes!"

The enthusiastic reply had a bolt of pure lust shoot through Sunstreaker, and grinding his hips against the berth gave little relief to the insistent pressure behind his panel. Wiping the lubricant away from his mouth, Sunstreaker sat up and his plating slid back to let his spike extend.

Bluestreak wasted no time in guiding his spike into his valve, releasing a pleased sigh. "Frag, Sunny..."

"You're so beautiful." Sunstreaker sighed, allowing Bluestreak to adjust around him. Bluestreak barely heard him, his fans roaring as condensation gathered on his frame. If he were to see himself now, flushed, panting, dribbling and covered in his own fluids, he'd have been horrified.

Sunstreaker?

The most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

Sunstreaker fell into Bluestreak as the mech rocked their hips up, taking in all of Sunstreakers spike.

* * *

 

Prowl stumbled through towering piles of rubble, tripping and slicing his pedes open.

But he never stopped running.

There was fire, fire everywhere, and it was making paint bubble and dead metal warp. But Prowl still didn't stop running.

His spark ached with loss, a hole that could never be filled gaping and threatening to engulf him, but Prowl refused to give up. His twins sacrifice would not be in vain!

Jazz could only keep up, his hands passing through him every time he tried to comfort the crying youngling.

Prowl ran and ran, biting back his sobs of agony, before suddenly skidding to a halt as he clutched his chest.

"It hurts." He whimpered, looking up skyward. Jazz looked around to see who Prowl was talking to, but he saw no one.

That is, until the rubble a few paces ahead shifted as a small femme peered out.

"Who are you talking to?" She asked. Staying well under her makeshift shelter. "There's no one in the skies anymore."

"The Ziz too?!" Prowl replied with another choked sob. His hand still clutched over his spark.

"Yup. One hit." The femme replied. "Are you hurting?" She asked, helm tilting.

"My twin." Prowl managed. "My twin was killed."

"Oh, oh I'm sorry!" The femme scrambled out and reached out towards him. "Come on, hide with me. It's safe and warm."

Prowl wiped away a fresh tear and nodded, crawling in behind the femme. "I don't think I got your designation."

"I don't have one." The femme replied, pulling the cover back over them. "The others used to call me 'it'. I wasn't too fond of that name."

"Couldn't imagine why. What do you want to be called?"

"Something nice. Fluffy, even."

"I suppose you'll find something."

"I guess." The femme replied with a shrug. They froze for a moment before placing a single digit to her lips. _Be quiet_.

There was the distant rumble of bullets being rapidly fired, followed by explosions and shouting. A fight.

"I think they're looking for someone." Prowl quietly said, glancing over at the femme beside him.

"Do you think they're after us?"

"Why would they be?"

"Well, I haven't seen any other younglings around."

Prowl hadn’t properly looked at her until now. And that’s when he noticed the lumps on her sides.

“Hey, what’s wrong with your sides? Are _you_ hurt?”

The femme self-consciously placed her hands over them. “I got them when The Ziz died. I felt them bubble up when they hit the ground.”

“We should ask The Elder about it.” Prowl replied, shifting a piece of rubble when he heard the sounds outside subside.

“The Elder? Who’s that?”

Prowl nearly dropped the rubble. “You don’t know who he is?”

“No, this is my first time on the ground.” She replied, pointing to the wings on her back and the turbines on her legs. “Seeker. I’m from the sky tower.”

“Ground pounder.” Prowl replied, wriggling his doorwings. “From the City on the Shore. How come you came down?”

“Hunters found us.” She replied. “Nobody would realise I was gone anyway, I don’t have any family.”

“I’m sorry.” Prowl frowned.

“We’re just in the same boat now.” She replied. “Who was this elder, anyway?”

“The Elder knows everything.” Prowl eagerly replied. “They’ll know what to do!”

_“Jazz?”_

_“He’s totally spaced out”_

_“Should I get Ratchet?”_

_“I’m sure he’ll be fine”_

_“Wasn’t the shield damaged today?”_

_“Maybe something got in”_

Jazz felt like he’d suddenly been tugged out of water. He intook deeply, optics resetting until he could see again. “What happened?” Jazz asked, looking between the others on the table.

“You seemed to be in some kind of trance.” Mirage replied, gesturing for Jazz to look up. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Ah feel fine, jus’ a lil tired.” Jazz honestly replied. He had a half-empty cube of energon in front of him; he had just been drinking from it to refuel. Bumblebee looked worried, as did Blaster and his two cassettes.

“I think ya should go recharge once ya finish ya cube.” Blaster said, pushing it closer towards him. Jazz knocked it back in one.

“Ah’ll be fine.” Jazz replied. “What were we talkin’ about?”

“We were about to discuss the… _interesting_ rumors.”

"Oh? Do tell."

"I was walking towards my habsuite with Hound, and we overheard something _scandalous_ in Sunstreakers quarters." Mirage replied. "They thought they were being quiet, but Hound heard everything."

Jazz had a sinking feeling that Bluestreak and Sunstreaker were about to be thrown into the spotlight.

"Sunstreaker's fraggin' someone." Blaster eloquently said, mimicking explosions with his hands. "We were just about ta say who we think it was."

"Hound said that they sounded like Bluestreak, but he's too gentle. I don't think they'd get along." Mirage said, chin in hand.

"How come? They're good friends." Jazz replied. He didn't know how he felt about talking about his friend like this. He knew the truth, and he knew Bluestreak didn't want others to know...

"They're good friends, granted, but in the long run their personalities clash." Mirage continued. "I'm thinking it was Tracks."

"Tracks?!" Blaster snorted with laughter. "That's about as likely as Jazz fragging Prowl!"

Jazz tried to not choke. "Hey!" He protested.

"Sorry, mech, I know ya've got ya thing for him but..."

"Way to be encouraging." Jazz grumbled. Everyone on the table erupted into laughter.

"If you're all quite done..." A voice behind them said. They all immediately stopped laughing and turned to see Prowl standing there, rigid and stoic as ever, datapad tapping on his chin. "I require your assistance, Mirage."

"Of course, Sir." Mirage said, standing and bidding farewell to everyone at the table. As Prowl left, he glanced at Jazz.

A moment of optic contact later, Prowl was gone.

Blaster was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, though.

"Ooh Jazzy, he looked at ya! He looked at ya he looked at ya!" Blaster said, bouncing on his pedes like a hyperactive child.

"Don' be silly." Jazz replied even as his face burned, "Tha' doesn' mean anythin'."

"Yeah, yeah." Blaster continued to tease. "I've gotta go for my shift now, catch up later?"

"Sure." Jazz replied, waving at him. Bumblebees optics dimmed as he checked his chronometer.

"Oh frag, gotta go too. Ironhide won't be happy if I'm late again!"

"Run, run like the wind!" Jazz replied, leaping to his pedes. Bumblebee ran out of the room with a mock shriek, dissolving into laughter when he was outside.

As soon as he was alone again, Jazz sunk back down into his seat.

The blade wasn't even in his hands, yet he was still sucked into a vivid memory. It was in his subspace. There had to be somewhere else he could safely put it, otherwise it was prone to being stolen or misplaced. In the wrong hands... It wasn't worth thinking about.

* * *

 

"You're worried about something." Prowl said as he walked out over the roof.

The rose gold femme perched on the railing barely even twitched. "How could you tell?"

"It's not often you come here."

"You're too observant."

"No, I've just known you for too long." Prowl replied as he leaned against the railing next to her. "Did you want to visit the twins?"

"I've already seen them." She replied. "They've grown up well. You're a good teacher."

"I just wish you'd told me they were yours sooner." Prowl replied as he frowned at her. "Why hide it?"

"I just didn't want you to think any different of me, you know I never had any long term partners." She replied somewhat guiltily. "They deserved a better start in life."

"Sunstreaker's not too happy about this new development."

"About me being their Carrier?" She replied, sounding wounded.

"No, not that." Prowl paused for a moment. "Some of your _other_ traits seem to have carried on over."

"What did I curse him with?"

"Wings."

She face palmed. "Of all things, it was _wings_." She threw her head back, shaking her fist at the sky. "You're a sick, sick god, Primus!"

"I'm sure he listens closely to us." Prowl dryly replied. "Not as if we're spawn of the underlord."

"Oh shut up, Prowl. Primus, I don't even know why we're friends sometimes." Ziz snapped.

"Something we both think." Prowl shot back. "You know, you _can_ talk to the twins if you'd like. I'm sure they don't bite."

"I don't deserve it, I just abandoned them before they would even be able to remember me." Ziz replied.

"You've watched over them this whole time." Prowl countered. "While you're here, at least take the opportunity."

"Can't afford to get distracted." Ziz replied. "There's a mech I don't know running around on base. They're creeping me out a little, they came from the hunters guild. Jazz got close to them but they didn't attack him."

Prowl bristled when Jazz's name was mentioned. "You're tracking him, I take it?"

"Yup, I have one of my birds out." She replied, pointing at the missing feather on her helm. "He managed to get through your shield."

"I'm investigating that now. What do you know about that?"

"They put a strange disk onto the shield, they found it with a stick first, and the disk opened and cracked open the shield in that particular place. It was like a door, and they pulled the disk back off again once they were in."

"I'll need to ask Perceptor about that."

"Is he still single by any chance?" Ziz hopefully asked.

"Please do not hit on my Officers."

"Spoil sport." Ziz pouted. "Whatever, my birds contacting me. The weirdo's trying to get into the building."

"Where?" Prowl asked, pedes shifting slightly.

"West entrance."

Prowls hand flew up to his audial. "Red Alert? I'll need optics on the west entrance."

Ziz didn't hear the reply as Prowl had already started to walk away.

"Typical." She snorted, leaning backwards and letting go of the railing. She slipped off, twisting to land on her feet. "Right, I'll go say hello."

It was faster for her to run than to transform and fly. The puddles of acid from the earlier storm splashed up her legs as she ran, but the acid did not bite her, it did not fizzle and pop on her metal.

Her bird swooped down to her when she arrived, settling on her outstretched arm. "I know you're here." She called. "Show yourself."

Slowly, a mech slunk out from the shadows. They were willowy, yet shorter than her, and a pure, pure white.

"A unique bird you have." They said.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "You shouldn't be here."

"Ah, but neither should you, Ziz."

Ziz suppressed her urge to twitch. Instead, her bird transformed back into a feather and docked back onto her helm to join its twin.

"Leave. You have no place here, hunter."

"I have all the reason to be here, the infested base." The mech purred in reply. "Do you have any idea how many pure and halflings are here?"

"They have just as much right to live as you do."

"No, no they don't. Not monsters. Not mecha like you."

"Rude." Ziz deadpanned. "I was just beginning to like you."

The white mech blinked and suddenly Ziz was inches from his face, fist flying towards him. With a resounding crack, he was knocked back onto his aft, cheek splitting open.

They grunted and bared their teeth at her, but froze when they noticed a laser dot was lining up with their forehead.

Looking down, they saw who was causing it.

Biting their lip, they held back the urge to express their excitement at seeing him.

Prowl, oh Prowl, what a wonderful cycle this was! Finally, the mech he had been _waiting_ for was just at his fingertips-!

A pede was firmly planted on his chest.

"Don't. Fucking. Move." Ziz snarled at him.

Prowl waved more mechs forwards, and he found himself hauled upwards, hands bound behind his back.

Well, frag. This could have gone better.

"I'm going to have to take you in, too." Prowl said, placing a hand on Ziz's shoulder.

"Lock me up, Copper." Ziz teased, placing her wrists together and holding them out towards him. "Have I been bad?"

Prowl bristled and glared at her. "Do not test me."

Ziz laughed and dropped the act. "Aw, you're so fun to annoy..."

"Not when the mech I'd quite like to berth is around, please." Prowl quietly said to her as he placed basic restraints on her arms. Ziz looked behind him and saw a flash of a blue visor. _Whoops_.

"What's my story?" She quietly asked.

"I've made it so I'll be questioning you. Ratchet will be standing in, he knows about me. Optimus might want to have a word later. You'll be honest. The official story the troops will receive is that you were investigating an illegal hunter, are we clear?"

"Crystal. Is this Optimus..?"

"Prime, yes."

Ziz bristled. "But he's a _Prime_ , I don't _want_ -"

"Just do it." Prowl hissed. "He's rather agreeable, and for once doesn't want to kill us. Try and keep it that way."

Ziz grumbled angrily to herself. "Too many of my birds have been killed by Primes for me to be civil, Prowl."

"Optimus isn't a judgemental bastard." Prowl responded. " _I_ rather like him, for he is respectable company. He'd never hurt your birds."

"That's what you said about her, too. And don't pretend you don't know who I mean."

Prowl tightened the restraints to the point of pain and pushed Ziz towards another mech. "Take her down to room three, and keep an optic on her until I get there."

"Yessir."

Ziz glanced at Prowl as she was lead away. He looked pissed.

* * *

 

Bluestreak sighed as he settled down with Sunstreaker. The taller mech's arms were tightly wrapped around him, one hand settling on the back of his helm, the other absently tracing shapes on the cooling metal.

"Wings, huh?" Bluestreak quietly said as he traced over the markings. "They're going to be beautiful, by the way."

"I wish you could be there to see them." Sunstreaker replied just as quietly.

"I.... I think I will..."

"Blue?" Sunstreaker pulled back and looked at Bluestreaks face. His optics were pale and it were as if he were looking straight through him - another trance. "Blue, Blue, look at me, please look at me-"

"I'm there." A smile split across Bluestreaks face, and finally his optics focused again as he looked at Sunstreaker. "I'm going to be there."

"Where? Where are you going to be?"

"Right behind you, these are like... There are huge wings the colour of molten gold."

Sunstreaker uncertainly smoothed his hand over his helm. "Are you sure?"

"Kind of? I don't want to give false hope..."

"Please don't... Suddenly trance, okay?" Sunstreaker asked, rubbing his thumbs under Bluestreaks optics as he cupped the others face. "It's worrying."

"I can't help it!" Bluestreak indignantly replied. "I'm just as worried as you are, I don't usually remember- oh, Sunny! I remembered it! I remembered doing it!" He excitedly squealed, not something anyone wants three inches from their face.

Sunstreaker took it in stride, however.

"That's great," he began, trying to not wince as his audials rung, "but please stop shouting."

"Ah- sorry!" Bluestreak clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry." He repeated more quietly.

"It's fine." Sunstreaker smoothed a hand over his helm and kissed his forehead. He shifted his hips slightly to get more comfortable when he realised that it felt... _wet_. "But our paint jobs are not." He glanced down to see their lower halves slick with fluids.

"Oh no, we made a mess." Bluestreak groaned, face burning with embarrassment. "Do you think we'll be able to hide this as we go down to the washracks?"

"Probably not." Sunstreaker admitted as he leaned over to reach under his berth, "But I do have some wipes."

* * *

 

Ziz fiddled with the cuffs. They were so _tight_ , what _gives_?! What justified that setting?! Maybe a minibot, but even then they'd be a bit snug.

"Hey, excuse me?" Ziz called to the tall red mech standing just outside of her containment room, "Do you think you could loosen these? I can't feel my hands."

"Sorry," the mech replied, "but Ah'll need the access codes to do that."

"Ah, bugger." Ziz groaned as she sat back down again. "Thanks anyway."

"I'll call someone down." They said after a beat of silence.

"Really? Thank you!"

A few excruciatingly long moments later, a white and orange mech trudged down and tapped in the code to enter her cell.

“’Sup.” She greeted, trying to not wince as her hands twitched. Damn it, but they hurt!

The mech nodded at her as he locked the cell behind him. “Afternoon. Your wrists, please?”

Ziz obediently raised her arms, and the mech poked at the cuffs for a moment before unlocking them. Ziz hissed and immediately pulled her hands back towards her chest, shakily rubbing at them in an attempt to get the feeling back.

“Those were far too tight, which fool put them on?”

“Prowl.” Ziz replied through gritted teeth. “Thanks… What was your name?”

“Ratchet. I have the unfortunate job of observing your little chat with Prowl.”

“Same prick who put on the cuffs?”

“I have a feeling we’ll get on marvelously.” The corner of Ratchets mouth twitched upwards, but there was a certain glimmer in his optics. “I would offer to shake your hand, but I have a feeling you’d object to that.”

“They’re still a bit sore, admittedly.”

“Then the intention will have to suffice for now.” Ratchet gestured for Ziz to sit in the chair next to a disheveled table. Ratchet sunk down into the seat opposite, knees clicking.

Ziz raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she looked at Ratchet expectantly.

"Put your wrists up on the table." Ratchet said. "I'll take a look at them for you."

Ziz did so without hesitation. Ratchet frowned at them for a moment, surprisingly gentle hands moving them this way and that and gently nudging aside playing that would move. He quietly murmured an apology every time she flinched or hissed in pain.

"Prowl put the hand cuffs on far too tightly. I'll be giving him a stern lecture for that."

"Can I watch?"

"Unfortunately no, but I can record it for you."

"Perfect."

"Prowl seemed adamant that he were the one to talk to you. Any idea why?" Ratchet offhandedly asked as he rummaged in the medical kit he procured from his subspace.

"Not the slightest. Perhaps it was my charming demeanour?"

Ratchet snorted with laughter. "Of course. This might sting a little."

Ziz bit down on her cheek to stop herself from crying out. The liquid Ratchet was dropping on her wrists burned like acid, and she could feel the coolant prickling in her optics-

"That should help the healing process." Ratchet blotted away the excess with a rag.

The door leading to the brig swished open, and a familiar pedefall came in.

"Looks like our guest of honour is here." Ratchet put the medical kit back in his subspace and stood up. "You'll need to go back in these for a moment, is that okay?" Ratchet held up the hand cuffs.

"So long as they don't maul my wrists." Ziz replied.

Prowl turned the corner as Ratchet secured the cuffs.

"You're here already?" Prowl asked with a hint of surprise.

"Inferno called me down. Apparently the cuffs were too tight." Ratchet replied, the 'you're in a lot of trouble' audible in his voice.

Prowl, however, seemed unaffected by this.

"Oh? I trust you've adjusted them?"

"I did."

"Excellent. We're in interrogation room three."

And with that, Prowl was off again.

"Prick." Ziz muttered under her breath.

"You can say that again."

Interrogation room three was not too big, nor too small. Cameras were secured in all four corners. And there were other ones hidden in chairs, tables, and the seemingly innocent recorder sitting in the middle of the table.

Ratchet leaned against the wall on the far side right next to the door. Prowl walked in and took the seat to the right of the door, leaving Ziz to take the left.

"So." Ziz prompted after a few moments of them simply staring at each other in silence. "How can I help you, sir?"

"Why, exactly, are you here?"

"Tracking a hunter. You were there when I caught up with them."

"Weather patterns indicate you were within reach of them for quite some time." Prowl frowned. Ratchet frowned harder but didn't say anything.

"The timing wasn't right. There were always too many others around, I didn't want anyone else to get involved."

"So you waited until they'd damaged our shields."

"That's the gist of it."

"Why?"

"I just said-"

" _Why_." Prowl laced his fingers together and leaned forwards.

"Are you suggesting I let them get this close on purpose?" Ziz darkly replied.

"I might be."

Ziz jumped to her feet, leaning ominously over Prowl. "I would _never_."

Prowl stood himself. "Yet you _did_. Not getting others involved is bullshit and you know it."

"Fine!" Ziz shouted in exasperation. "Don't believe me! Never mind that _none of us_ can enter the final state right now, never mind that I have no idea which twisted bastard has The Blade! Frag me, if I knew trying to be cautious would get me in this much shit I wouldn't have bothered and I'd be dead! Is that what you'd have wanted?!"

"We have it."

"You... What?"

"The Blade. It's in our possession at present."

Ziz sunk back down into her seat.

"What?"

"We don't know who gave it to us, but Jazz is currently watching over it." Prowl replied. "It's in our hands."

Something inside Ziz snapped.

In a flash, she had torn the handcuffs in half and they fell to the floor with a clatter. One pede was firmly planted onto the table, and her sharp, sharp teeth were inches away from Prowls face.

While she was smaller than Prowl was in his demonic form, she was sharper. Pointer, almost. Sharp elongated scales, almost like bladed feathers, covered her shoulders and the base of her wings. While her optics were the same bright, bright purple as Prowls were, where he was purple she was a deep blush red.

Prowl raised an optic ridge at her.

Ratchet's optics widened slightly and his spark leaped in his chest.

He was far too old for this.

"You didn't tell me?" She hissed, seething. "My _kids_ are here, and you didn't tell me?!"

Prowl raised his hands up in front of him. "I didn't want to keep it from you. Honestly, I thought you knew."

"Oh, I clearly knew! If I had known I'd have come and taken them away!"

"That's illogical-"

"Fuck you and your logic! 'That's not logical'- oh, kiss my _ass_ , Prowl." Ziz Poorly mimicked him. Prowl gritted his teeth and slowly stood, shedding his disguise himself.

"If you want to endanger the twins," Prowl began, "then be my guest. But as their teacher, their guardian, the one who _raised_ them," Prowl gradually inched closer to her face with every word until Ziz could feel his breath ghosting across her face, "I say they stay here where it is safe."

Ziz scowled darkly at him.

"You know why I couldn't do any of that myself."

"Indeed I do, but that doesn't change anything."

Ziz's teeth crackled and sparked as she ground them against each other, a screeching noise emanating from them. "You can't keep them safe from this forever."

"Neither can you."

"At least I'm not sitting here like a useless-!"

Ratchet inhaled sharply in surprise.

The two of them froze and looked at each other before glancing at Ratchet.

He politely looked back at them.

Ziz removed her pede from the table.

"Don't mind me." Ratchet waved them off. "Continue."

Ziz backed away from the table and shifted her disguise back on. "Not worth it. I know where I've lost."

Prowl backed away from the table too and followed her lead.

"Glad we can agree."

"Don't get too cheerful." Ziz snapped. "I don't think your face is used to smiling."

Prowl frowned at her.

"Let me out. I'm done."

"Unfortunately I can't release you just yet-"

Ziz made a sound of protest, but Prowl ignored her and continued, "- but I can once Optimus gives me the all clear. Then you're free to leave."

"Take me to my room, then."

Prowl gestured for Ratchet to follow them. The medic pushed himself off from the wall and strode beside them. Prowl lead them down, down, down, far away from where Ziz was before. Ratchet looked at Prowl weirdly. Why were they going this deep?

"Prowl, why are we going beneath the surface?"

"Two reasons. One: you _still_ haven't stopped your acid rain, and I'd quite like that to stop. Two: you can cause the least problems down here with your sparks. Any other questions?"

"That just about covers it." Ziz grumpily replied.

::I want a full explanation:: Ratchet privately commed Prowl. Prowl sent a ping back in the affirmative.

* * *

 

“So,” Ratchet said once they were safely inside Prowls office, “You promised an explanation to me.”

“And you’ll get one. What exactly is it you want to know?”

“Who is she? You seemed to know her quite well.”

“Perhaps we should wait until Optimus gets here before I answer that.” Prowl replied. “It’s a question he’d likely want to hear the answer to.”

“Fair. “

Ratchet commed Optimus with just two words.

 _Hurry up_.

Optimus jogged along the hallway, his mechs moving to the side to keep out of his way. Was something wrong? Had something bad happened and he didn’t want to raise too much alarm?

He sped up a little.

Perhaps he was just being his impatient self?

He slowed down a little.

A few moments later, he was knocking on the door. Prowl let him in, immediately locking the door behind him, and deactivated the camera.

“Now, about that explanation...”

Optimus leaned against the desk and retracted his battle mask. “From what I understand, you know each other, correct?”

“That is correct.”

Ratchet frowned. “But she said she didn’t know you.”

“She likely didn’t know how much info she was allowed to give. She can be a rather good actor when she wants to be.” Prowl replied. “I’ll be brief; She was following a hunter here. It’s one we both know rather well, unfortunately…”

“And he’s all homey on base? Who’s keeping an eye on them?” Ratchet asked.

“Ironhide.” Optimus promptly replied. “He’s also down in the high security unit, as per Prowls request. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in stasis right now.”

“A stasis lock isn’t enough to keep them down,” Prowl said, perching on the arm of his chair, “But it’s enough to keep them in place.”

“So relatively safe. What’s their name?” Ratchet asked.

“Realgar.” Prowl replied.

“ _The_ Realgar?” Optimus replied, hands pinching the air and pulling it backwards next to his audials as if mimicking a winged helm. “I thought he was… bigger.”

“He’s not in his real body.” Prowl admitted. “The last time we fought, we destroyed his actual body. Somehow, he survived.”

“’We’ being yourself and Ziz, correct?” Optimus asked.

Prowl briefly paused and shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“There was a third, we form a trine together. I… can’t tell you who.”

“It’s not Megatron, is it?” Ratchet cautiously asked.

Prowls face scrunched up. “Pit, no. We’d have already slaughtered him if it weren’t for the Underlord marking him for his own.”

“So you can’t touch him?” Optimus asked.

“We’re not allowed to cause him any harm.” Prowl explained. “He seems to want his spark intact. I don’t know why.”

“You never said how you and the other knew each other.” Ratchet hinted.

“We met when we were very young and near enough grew up together.” Prowl began. “When we were teenagers and our… _abilities_ became more pronounced, we had to be separated. That didn’t last too long, but the next time we saw each other we were adults and the war had ended.”

“War?” Ratchet prodded.

“With Mixcoatl.”

Ratchet rubbed at his optics. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m sure Optimus will be glad to fill you in.” Prowl said, indicating that the conversation was over.

* * *

 

Sideswipe crept down the hallways and towards the brig.

Sunny was god knows where - probably with Bluestreak - and Jazz, Smokescreen, and the others now he thought about it, were either on shift or sleeping. Prowl was busy with Optimus and Ratchet, so he wasn't worried about Prowl being the one to catch him doing this.

Ironhide, however, he _did_ have to worry about.

He timed his advance with the change of guard. While Inferno was busy chatting with and getting his replacement caught up on what was happening, Sideswipe slipped past in the shadows. It was difficult when he heard the lasted gossip being discussed - oh, he'd missed _that_ juicy bit of info! But he had to press on. With great regret, he tore himself away and continued on towards the door to the lower levels.

Some idiot had left it ajar.

Sideswipe happily exploited this.

He slithered in through the gap, disappearing in just in time for him to hear Inferno leaving. Sideswipe waited for a few moments before continuing onwards.

He went down, down, and down. The high security level was, obviously, heavily locked down, and that was where Ironhide was.

Nooooo thank you. He rather liked being in one piece, thank you very much.

But the one he was interested in wasn’t in the high security level. They were in the isolation unit. Strangely enough, that door was ajar too…

Sideswipe thought nothing on it as he pushed the door open and continued in. It was dim down there, outside light having no chance of reaching this far in, and the crystals that lit it were starting to fade out and die. They’d have to be replaced soon, or they could upgrade to the modern era and use actual lights. Still, it was light enough for Sideswipe to see so that was good enough for him.

There was someone in the cell on the far right.

He walked over.

“Hello?” He asked, walking right up to the bars. Sense of danger? Not in this one. Common sense? Not in this one either.

But Ziz wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Hi?” She called out from where she was sat in the darkness. The dying crystals cast a shadow in her cell; only the front of it illuminated enough to be able to see, while the back was plunged into an inky black darkness. She suspected only her optics were visible to whoever was ther-

She perked up.

“Hi!” Sideswipe cheerfully replied. “I came down to see you. See how you were.”

“I am fine, thank you.” She replied.

“Can you come forwards a bit?” Sideswipe asked. “I’m sure you don’t want to be sat in the dark.”

Ziz laughed.

“Oh, I am _so_ used to being kept in the dark.” She lightly replied, but nonetheless she stood up and walked into the light at the front. “Any gossip from up top?”

Sideswipe nearly gasped.

Their face looked strikingly familiar.

Was that Sunstreaker’s face..?

“Uh… Not much you’d understand.” He swallowed hard. “Sorry, you look, like, super familiar.”

“Who do I look like?” She eagerly asked, although a part of her already knew what he was going to say.

“My twin.”

“Ooh? That’s interesting… I wonder why…” She pondered, finger on lip. “Maybe we’re secretly siblings?” She playfully replied.

“I don’t think you’re my sister.” Sideswipe frowned. “Sorry,” He quickly added, “But you don’t look much like me.”

“Different creator?”

“Probably a different Sire,” Sideswipe bitterly replied, “I’ve never met my Carrier, but you look nothing like my Sire.”

Ziz wilted slightly. “What do you think of your Carrier?”

“I… I’m angry at her.” Sideswipe kicked at a spec of dust. “I’ve never met her, and she’s only caused problems for us.”

“Problems?” Ziz felt her tank sink and throat tighten. Oh no…

“We were too much for the other teachers to handle. Prowl got lumped with us entirely, the poor asshole, and we’ve never been able to fully control anything to do with ourselves. And now Sunny’s gone and gotten an extra helping of ‘freak of nature’.”

“Would you rather have that burden?” Ziz asked him.

“I would.”

“Noble of you.” Ziz weakly smiled.

“He’s already got enough problems.” Sideswipe replied. “If I could ask one thing from her, I’d ask why. Just, _why_. Why have us. Why leave us.”

“I think she did it because she thought it’d be best. That you’d be better off without her.”

“I’d like to at least know what her face looks like.” Sideswipe groused, “And know if I’ll get anything cool too!”

“Cool?”

“Yeah! Like, come on, wings. Pretty damn awesome.”

“They’re a burden.” Ziz replied, twisting herself slightly to show off the wings on her back. “People always seem to think it’s okay to touch them!”

“Sunny gets that with his armor. He polishes it like a mirror, even though he knows it’s going to get scuffed again when he gets into his next argument.”

“Arguments? He’s hotheaded, then?”

“Kind of. We didn’t exactly have the most stable upbringing, it... messed with his head a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Ziz meekly ducked her head.

“What for?”

“F-for not having the best childhood.” Ziz spluttered. “I’m sure your Carrier wished for better…”

Sideswipe opened his mouth to reply when they heard footsteps descending the stairs.

“Uh oh…”

“You weren’t meant to be here?!” Ziz snapped at him, “Oh my _Primus_ , Sideswipe – quick, just – just hide!”

Sideswipe didn’t stop to think and scrambled to hide in the corner.

Ziz smacked her forehelm.

Idiot! She’d created an idiot!

She stepped backwards into the shadows to compose herself as Optimus Prime walked in.

“Ziz,” He said, deep voice vibrating throughout the room, “I’d like to speak with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, and extra double sorry it's like, half the length that is usually is.  
> Previous chapter had a few minor changes to it!

Sideswipe stood rigidly in the corner, not even daring to breathe. Optimus Prime was _right there_..!

"Prowls explanation of you was rather... _lacking_." Optimus said as he sunk down in front of Ziz's cell. "He didn't even tell us your name."

Ziz laughed from the shadows, but didn't come forwards. "I don't have one. The name I use was simply given to me."

"Then, what is your given name?"

"I don't like it." Ziz scrunched her face up even though the Prime wouldn't be able to see it. "It's a burden."

"As much of a burden as being a Prime?"

Ziz hissed at him. "Primes have never brought anything good to me."

"I suppose so. I can never hope to atone for what my predecessors have done, however I have no ill will towards you."

Ziz dropped her guard a little and her frown faltered. "But... You're a Prime."

"And I do not wish to hurt you."

"I've been told that before. I lost three of my birds to them."

"I am sorry for your loss."

"... Thanks."

"Perhaps we could start anew." The Prime held his hand out towards her, his fingertips brushing against the bars to the cell. "My name is Optimus Prime."

Ziz nervously came forwards and gingerly touched the tips of her fingers to his. "It's a pleasure." She stonily replied. "Just call me what everyone else does. Makes the process easier."

The Prime went to open his mouth, but she swiftly cut him off. "Just... Not right now."

Optimus nodded. "Of course. I have just one more question for you."

"Go ahead."

"Why Prowl as a guardian for the twins?"

Ziz's optics flicked to the corner Sideswipe was standing in. She thankfully couldn't see him, but...

"He... Knows what being a twin is like, even if it didn't last long. And I trust him."

"I see. Thank you."

"Be nice to him!" Ziz called to the Prime as he was stepping across the threshold into the stairwell. "To Prowl. He's only doing what he thinks is best."

Optimus nodded before shutting the door behind him.

Sideswipe released the breath he had been holding.

"Phew! That was so lucky!"

Ziz weakly smiled at him. "You should go before you really get caught."

"You think? You look like you need a hug."

"I'm fine."

"You really don't have a name?"

"Nope."

"Wow! What do they call you then?"

"'It', usually. I have other names but... None of them are too pleasant."

"Hmmm, can I give you a name?"

"Go for it."

Sideswipe opened his mouth to reply when the alarm went off. "Aw, I lost it.

It was a good one too! I'll be back soon! C'ya!"

And with that, Sideswipe was skipping up the steps. Ziz shook her head at his antics, and silently wondered if he'd have turned out the same way if she had raised him.

Aaah, probably.

* * *

 

Realgar was gone.

Ironhide had been found bleeding out on the floor, a huge laceration cleaving through his neck, and the cell was empty. With no signs of a break in, it meant that Realgar had escaped by himself.

His target?

They didn't know, but Prowl did.

It was him.

Speeding away from the base, Prowl passed through the check point that would allow him to pass through the barrier. The further he was from the base when they confronted each other, the better.

It was just unfortunate he had to do it alone.

Ziz was deep under their base, a mistake and he knew it, but he couldn't count on her to help him. And the other, behemoth, was galaxies away at Garrus-9. They would be no help either.

::Ironhide's stable, and Optimus is secure. I just hope you know what you're doing:: Ratchet commed.

::I hope so too::

::What if he doesn't follow you?::

::Then it's an opportunity wasted, and I give permission for you to release my friend::

::Noted. But, pray tell, why don't you refer to her by her name?::

::It's her choice to make. Her names rather... Unique::

::It's something that makes it glaringly obvious as to who she is isn't it. Ziz? It's Ziz isn't it::

Prowls silence was obvious.

::Oh, Primus damn it Prowl! Stop bringing your crazy friends on base!::

::She doesn't stay in one place for too long, I wouldn't worry::

::I am worrying! Two major demons on base! Two! That's two thirds of a trio capable of destroying a planet- don't cut me off aga-::

Prowl cut him off. He'd heard the rant before when it was just _him_.

Just imagine what would happen if the third member paid a visit? Prowl was half a mind of inviting him down, just to see what Ratchet would do.

Prowl slowed to a halt when he felt he was far enough from the base for it to be safe. He transformed and slunk away under the cover of some trees, their metallic bark still glistening from the recent acid storm. Hmm, putting Ziz in the basement did work then...

He found a dry patch and settled down for his wait.

But Realgar had seen Prowl leave, and knew he was just being baited.

Staying behind on the base and using his sweetheart as bait? Oh, it was _so tempting_. Quintal would be furious, though...

If he didn't outright kill Jazz, then Quintal wouldn't have a problem, right?

Oh, he knew Prowl had a soft spot for him. Jazz _stunk_ of Prowl, and viewing the security tapes showed him that Jazz spent an awful lot of time with Prowl. Unfortunately the cameras in the CTO's office didn't always work but the ones just outside did...

In fact, it was how he knew where Jazz was.

Jazz didn't realise he wasn't alone in the office until the door locked itself and the lights turned off. He immediately ducked under Prowls desk, listening intently for anything that would give another mech away.

Holding his breath, it was just quiet enough for him to hear another mech breathing...

Riiiight next to him.

Well.

Excellent.

"Hello, Jazz." They purred, getting awfully close to him. "I've been looking for you. Fancy a chat?"

"Who are ya?" Jazz demanded as he scuttled out from under the desk.

"Oh? Not even a hello? How rude."

"Says the one sneakin' into places they have no business bein' in!"

"Now now, Jazz." Realgar purred, "Don't go making this difficult."

"A-are ya bein' serious?!"

"Explicitly." They licked their chapped lips. "So, tell me, you here often?"

"None of ya business."

"Oh, so harsh! But oh, Jazzy, what are you hoping to accomplish by hiding things?"

"Ah'm not hidin' anythin'! Why are ya here!?"

"Na uh uh!" Realgar waggled a finger at him. "I asked first!"

"Ah answered ya."

“That was such a non-answer, dear. You’re avoiding things.”

“Says the one who wont even tell me their name.” he replied.

“You’re right. Where are my manners?” Realgar bowed elaborately, his hand flourishing. “I am Realgar, legendary warrior and liberator of the masses. It’s a pleasure.”

“Ah thought you were bigger.”

“I was, I was. It’s why I need you.” He slunk closer to Jazz before firmly grasping his jaw, angling his face up to he could inspect it better. “This will only hurt just a pinch…”

Jazz barely had time to breath before Realgar was shoving a hand into his chest. It didn’t… hurt. There was no energon, it was as if his hand was phasing through him.

Until he grabbed his spark.

Then, it was _excruciating_.

Prowl gasped and a hand flew to his chest, his spark spasaming and screaming at him.

_Something happened in old home something wrong something very wrong being forced out being forced out being forced out-!_

Something was happening to Jazz, and Prowl bet that Realgar had something to do with it.

::Where’s Jazz?!:: He rapidly commed Sideswipe – he wasn’t going to chance Ratchet – hoping that he’d be able to respond.

::I thought he was with you?::

::No, no he isn’t. Something’s wrong, tell Ratchet that he needs to release her. Now. He’ll know what I mean::

::Prowl, what’s happening?:: Sideswipe nervously asked.

::I wish I knew. We just need to work with what we have – now get Ratchet::

Sideswipe pinged an affirmative before closing the connection. Prowl growled and shakily got to his feet, his spark still freaking out. Realgar had chosen a new host, and it was Jazz.

It was a fucking mess.

As he transformed and gunned it back to base, sending a long-distance communication to his third trine member, he wondered what kind of safe guards Jazz had put on his storage units. He knew Jazz had The Blade. He just didn’t know where he had put it.

::I’m bridging myself over now:: was the immediate reply. Prowl sent a pleased ping back – at least he could count on _someone_.

The smell of electricity began to fill the air, a distant rumble echoing in the geological formations that surrounded the base. Ziz was at the surface, and she was _not_ happy.

Prowl skidded into base, coming to a halt and transforming in front of Ziz. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was tapping her foot in displeasure.

“Prowl!” She snapped, jabbing him in the chest with a sharp finger, her disguise long gone, “You’re a fucking idiot!”

“I think we’ve already clarified that.” Prowl replied.

A horrified group had started to gather, all staring at Ziz in shock and disgust. A demon, in their presence? Unheard of, disgraceful. Prowl glanced at them before looking back at Ziz.

“My office. Now.”

“That’s where Jazz is.” She hissed. Prowl slowly turned to look at her.

“Are you sure?”

“I have a bird in the security hub, I’m very sure that’s where he is.” Ziz replied. “That security guy in there’s also freaking out.”

“Probably at you.” Prowl replied. “I need to speak with Optimus, we’re about to have a visitor.”

“The big guy?”

“He’s bridging himself over now.”

Ziz excitedly clasped her hands together. “We’re all going to be together again!”

“Last time that happened it was an apocalypse.” Prowl frowned at her. Ziz simply grinned and shrugged.

“Prowl?” Another Praxian, Smokescreen asked. Prowl looked at the other strategist. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to fix it.” Prowl sternly replied, signaling the end of the conversation. He grabbed Ziz by the arm and stalked away, Ziz scrambling to keep up with his longer legs.

Optimus was waiting for them in his office. He had refused to go into a bunker to hide away – what kind of leader left his people on the front line alone without guidance? He refused to show any kind of fear towards Realgar. That, he knew, was what drove him mad.

“This is quite the mess.” He rumbled when the pair had entered the room. Ziz nodded, and Prowl just scrubbed a hand over his face as he sunk down into a chair.

“This is my fault. I wasn’t careful enough.” Prowl mumbled.

“We all should have seen it coming.” Ziz replied. “The signs were everywhere.”

“Ratchet’s informed me something may be wrong with Jazz?” Optimus prodded.

“We think Realgar’s chosen him as a new host.” Ziz replied while Prowl stayed silent, scrubbing at his face and glaring at the floor. “If Jazz really does have The Blade…”

“Then we’ve just armed a very, very dangerous person.” Optimus finished. “How do we free Jazz?”

“Jazz has to either force him out, or Realgar has to abandon them.” Prowl replied. “Only no one’s ever forced him out before, and Realgar will never abandon a host without good reason.”

Ziz perched on the edge of the Primes desk. “We’ll have to kill Jazz if we want him out.”

“We’re not killing anyone.” Prowl hissed.

“Would you rather just one dies, or everyone dies Prowl?”

Optimus watched the two endlessly bicker before eventually growing tired of it and suddenly standing.

“Enough!”’ He snapped, patience worn thin. “Stop pointing fingers! I have a base full of innocent people, and I need help. You can either go back to your quarters and wait, or you can stop arguing and _help me_.”

Prowls doorwings dipped in apology as Ziz scoffed.

“I don’t help Primes.” She spat.

“Then help me.” Prowl stood and stared her down. “You know you can’t do anything against Realgar on your own, none of us can.”

“… When did you say the Big Guy would be here?” Ziz quietly asked. She knew Prowl was right, and she felt guilty about being difficult.

“I’m not sure how long it takes for his bridge to power up.” Prowl admitted. Ziz nodded and released one of her birds, opening the door to let it out into the base.

“I’ll send her out to scout for him.”

“Who’s coming?” Optimus demanded.

“The third member in our trine, the Behemoth.” Prowl replied.

“The more help the better, thank you Prowl.”

“You’re welcome, although I can see Ratchet pitching a fit.”

“Let him.”

“I know you’re going to hate this idea,” Ziz said, slowly pacing around the office, “But please just let us handle this. We’ve fought with Realgar before, we’ve beat him once we can do it again.”

“This is also my problem.” Optimus frowned. “One of my mechs has been compromised-“

“Because of our mistakes.” Prowl cut in. “Ziz is right – I don’t want avoidable casualties. The secret’s out now, the game’s over. There’s no point in me hiding my identity here.”

“Nobody suspects you’re a demon yourself Prowl-“

“They’re already connecting the dots. Today has been… very enlightening for the crew here.”

“I refuse. You’re not facing this alone.” The Prime sternly replied.

“Then I choose who you’re sending.” Prowl shot back. The two stared at each other for a long time before the Prime eventually nodded.

“Very well. Name your mechs.”

“I want Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to come with us. Have Ratchet on standby for any injuries. Otherwise, no one is to join us.”

“Just those two?”

Ziz stared at Prowl flabberghasted. “No! No, you’re not taking them-!”

“There’s no one else! They’re the only purebloods here; no one else is even remotely close to having a detectable amount of demonic heritage. To bring anyone else is to send them to their death.”

“They’re my _kids,_ Prowl!”

“They’re ready for this.”

“Prime!” Ziz begged, whirling around to face him. “You can’t let him do this!”

“Unfortunately I can.” The Prime apologetically replied. “They’re soldiers, and old enough to go to the front line.”

“Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have plenty of combat experience.” Prowl assured her. “If I’m even slightly worried about their wellbeing, I’ll send them back. I, too, would rather they not die.”

“This is so unfair.” Ziz groaned. “You’re just saying that so I-“ She suddenly paused, her optics brightening. “He’s here!”

“Don’t look too excited.” Prowl scolded as a huge grin split out over her face.

“But I haven’t seen him for so long! You get to see him loads!”

“Not that often, he’s in a completely different galaxy-“

“Don’t give me that crap.” Ziz bounced towards the door. “Come on, we need to get the asshole.”

Optimus slowly got to his feet in order to follow.

“Fortress Maximus?” He tentatively asked.

“I’m glad you remembered.” Prowl replied as Ziz froze in place, looking at Prowl in disbelief.

“You told him?!”

“Of course I did.” Prowl indignantly replied. “I’m not going to hide from the Prime that an incredibly dangerous demon is working for him, especially when he is potentially going to control an entire planet.”

“It was lucky Prowl did,” Optimus continued, “as it secured him as the candidate for Garrus-9.”

“… I don’t know whether to think that you’re amazing or insane, Prime.”

“I prefer not to discriminate. Anyone Prowl says is trustworthy usually proves to be.”

“If you could lead the way.” Prowl prompted, gesturing for Ziz to lead them to the location of her bird.

* * *

 

Fortress Maximus stepped off the bridge and onto a lush, lively planet. The co-ordinates Prowl had supplied him vorns ago were still up to date; in the distance, he could see the Autobot base.

There were two shapes moving towards him. One was flying in the air, and looked suspiciously like one of Ziz’s birds, and the other was a grey and red car.

Were they following the bird?

::Stay where you are:: Prowl commed him, ::We’re on our way::

::There’s a grey and red car coming towards me:: Fortress Maximus replied.

::That’s Bluestreak!:: Ziz chirped, ::A swell guy::

::He’s safe, but it may be best to hide until we find you:: Prowl assured him.

::Does he not know about us?::

::He does, however I don’t think you’ll enjoy his endless talk::

::Duly noted. I’m under cover::

Bluestreak raced towards him, spark hammering in his chest. He had a flash of panic flood him before settling with a calm and a sense of wellbeing. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were busy preparing for…. Something, they refused to tell him what, so he was free to leave the base with no one noticing. There was something near the base, something had just arrived, and he wanted to find out what.

“Hello?” He called out when he arrived. “I know you’re here.”

Fortress Maximus stayed silent, crouched down inside a hollow in the metal. Bluestreak was just above him, scanning the area.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I know you came here for a reason and it felt nice to feel you come- no no that’s weird I’m sorry that’s a weird way to say it, uhm, you’re… safe? I mean you’re not _safe_ safe but you feel… safe.” Bluestreak finished lamely.

“ _Bluestreak_!” came an unknown voice. Fortress Maximus heard the mech squeak, and debris fell down in front of his face as the other mech turned around to face whoever had called his name.

“Sunny?”

“What’re you _doing_ \- why did you leave the base?!” he heard them storm towards him and the clang of metal on metal.

“There’s someone here!”

“That’s even more of a reason to _stay_!”

“They’re safe.” Bluestreak pouted. “They’ve got no reason to hurt me – I’ve seen. I was fine.”

Fortress Maximus paused. That was a weird way to phrase something… quietly, he peered out over the edge to take in the scene. A golden mech who looked freakily like Ziz, and another with his back to him. They were Praxian. There was a niggling in the back of his mind, the letter S coming up over and over again as he crouched back down.

S… s… Sága?

The Sága!

“That’s beside the point.” Sunstreaker snapped, pulling Bluestreak towards him. “Come on, we’re going back-“ He suddenly stopped and his neck clicked as he suddenly looked back at the base.

There was _another_ car approaching, and it felt very, very wrong. Without a word, he jumped down over the ledge with Bluestreak and jumped backwards without looking into the hollow he knew was there-

-and straight into Fortress Maximus.

The two younger mechs just about jumped out of their skin before the larger mech shuffled backwards and covered their mouths with his impossibly huge hands, pulling them closer to him.

“Shh.” He warned. “Don’t talk.”

Bluestreak hastily nodded, his hand rapidly seeking out Sunstreakers.

::Are you okay?:: Prowl hastily commed Fortress Maximus.

::I am fine. I have two younglings with me::

::Realgar is pretty much up your ass:: Ziz said, no hint of humor in her voice. ::Who are the kids?::

::Bluestreak and… Sunny, I believe::

::That’s Sunstreaker:: Prowl said, cutting out Ziz’s fitful swearing. ::I trust you’ve already noticed the resemblance::

::He looks just like her::

::He’d bloody better!:: Ziz snapped. ::Don’t you dare let him get hurt-::

::I’m not going to, you fool::

There were footsteps close to their location, and the idle scrape of metal upon metal. The other mech was whistling a jaunty tune as they walked back and forth, seeming to be waiting for… something.

::He’s pacing. Can you see what he’s holding?::

::A scythe:: Ziz replied. ::My birds are a little spooked by it::

::It could be The Blade:: Prowl replied. ::We’re a mile away, sit tight. On my signal, leave your cover. Understood?::

::Got’cha. See you both::

::See you!:: Ziz excitedly replied before ending her communication.

::I’ll be seeing you:: Prowl ended his communication.

A few moments later, blaster fire ripped through the trees. The pacing stopped and a laugh ripped out of Realgar. It was… far too musical to be his usual type of target. Who had he used?

Bluestreak and Sunstreaker froze and shared a look. Evidently, it was someone they knew. Bluestreak ripped the hand off his face and caught his breath.

“Jazz.” He whispered to Sunstreaker, “That’s Jazz.”

Fortress Maximus put the hand firmly back in place. “Quiet. That’s not Jazz anymore.”

Bluestreak looked as though he were about to cry, and Sunstreaker bristled in anger. “What’s that meant to mean?” he demanded, voice muffled Fortress Maximus’ hand.

“It’s someone called Realgar. Did Prowl not tell you anything?”

Sunstreaker angrily shook his head. “He didn’t.”

“You can kick his ass later, now though, you’ve got to help him.”

Sunstreaker reluctantly nodded as his twin pinged him, asking him where he was. He simply sent back his coordinates before turning his attention back to the scene at hand. Bluestreak had tears dribbling down his face, soaking Fortress Maximus’ hand, as there was a loud commotion above them. Prowl shouting at Ziz to not hurt him, Jazz laughing and taunting, the clang of metal on metal and sounds of pain.

::NOW!:: Prowl suddenly commed Fortress Maximus. He released the two younglings, pushing them behind him before jumping out of the hollow. Sunstreaker made to chase after him, shedding his disguise, when he was stopped by Bluestreak grabbing his arm and rapidly shaking his head. Don’t, don’t go. Reluctantly, he sunk back down again and knelt next to Bluestreak.

“What did you see?” He quietly asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“If you go out now,” Bluestreak shakily said, “Then you’ll die.”

“I can’t leave them on their own-“

“So you’ll leave me alone instead?”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“I know.” Bluestreak hiccupped and wiped a stray tear away. “I’m sorry I’m so selfish-“

“No, you’re not.” Sunstreaker pulled him closer; “You’re just stopping me from doing something stupid.”

Prowl, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do.

They had to fight Realgar. There was no other option. He just didn’t want to hurt Jazz.

The slight delay in Realgars swings of the scythe weren’t because he wasn’t used to the weapon – oh no – it was because Jazz was _fighting it_. He didn’t want to attack anyone! It was promising to Prowl – maybe Jazz would be able to force Realgar down enough for him to take back control? Forcing Realgar out, however, was a completely different matter.

But Jazz taking control would be enough. It would be enough.

Realgar jumped up and away from Fortress Maximus, the huge mech lunging for him. “Is that it?” he landed on an outcrop. “Is this all you can manage?”

“Get your ass down here and face us properly!” Ziz shouted, every part of her bristling with anger.

“But where’s the fun in that? You’re not even posing a challenge right now.” Realgar cocked his hip and grinned, snapping his fingers. “Maybe this will force you to?”

A series of glowing swords and shields appeared behind him, fanning out to form an arc. One by one, the swords arranged themselves above the trio below him and came crashing down, forcing the three to scatter and become separated.

“He’s struck another deal!” Ziz shouted above the commotion, Fortress Maximus shouting his reply. Prowl didn’t hear them, too busy focusing on what the shields were doing.

“Incoming!” He shouted, scrambling to right himself and dropping his disguise. The shields had formed a tight circle above Realgar, spinning faster and faster as a ball of energy formed in the center. Suddenly, the shields jerked outwards and a beam shot out, zig-zagging around. He heard a shriek – Bluestreak.

Oh, god. He’d forgotten Bluestreak was there.

Prowl rolled over to where Fortress Maximus was, looking up to see Ziz had taken to the skies and was trying to find a way to disable to shields.

::They’re shrinking, I think this is a limited attack:: She commed.

::Any way to make them shrink faster?:: Fortress Maximus asked.

::Try pushing them together:: Prowl ordered. It was far fetched, but worth a shot.

The moment Ziz touched them she was shocked and thrown, spinning until she regained her balance.

::Don’t touch, fucking hell!:: She audibly yelped in pain, rubbing her still smoking hand.

Prowl looked around for somewhere else to offer them cover. Realgar was still on the outcrop, laughing his head off, while the swords still danced around in an irregular pattern and that _damn beam_ made any kind of proper movement impossible.

::We may need to go full pelt again:: Prowl said

::But they’ll see us at the base-: Fortress Maximus began to protest, but Ziz cut him off.

::He’s right, we will. This is impossible, especially considering we can’t hurt him::

::Why is that, again?:: The prison warden asked with irritation.

::Because he’s inhabiting someone who’s important to me:: Prowl hurriedly replied.

Prowl made to run underneath the outcrop, but slipped on a wet patch from the earlier rain, sending him sliding down a slope ungracefully.

Realgar noticed.

Realgar attacked.

Bluestreak covered his audials as he heard the screech and clang of a sword hitting something.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be out for valentines day, lol
> 
> I actually had it written, as always, but… personal stuff got in the way… pesky personal issues!
> 
> ~Llama


End file.
